Farewell to Life the Way We Knew It
by Stormkpr
Summary: A few years after the events in A Father Should Be, the Misfits find themselves struggling to cope with major changes in the music world. Stormer, meanwhile, struggles with a secret of her own. The final chapter is uploaded. COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

**Farewell to Life the Way We Knew It**

By Stormkeeper )

Disclaimer:

All characters © Hasbro Inc. and Sunbow Entertainment. Please don't sue me – I'm not making any money of this fanfic and it is done solely for the enjoyment of those who have been faithful fans (not to mention, faithful purchasers of DVDs and dolls) of Jem for years.

Author's notes: 

I'm using a format that alternates between scenes written from Stormer's point of view and others told from the standpoint of an omniscient narrator.

Also, this fic is rated PG-13 due to some profanity and adult subject matter. This is intended for a mature audience, as later chapters might go to an "R" rating.

I wish to extend a big thank you to my wonderful beta-testers. You know who you are, and I couldn't have done it without you.

Enjoy the story, and please give feedback!

Farewell to Life the Way We Knew It

I never thought the world could change so much in such a small amount of time. When I look back to recent events, sometimes I'm stunned. The other day I found a magazine article from several years ago – right around the time we released the single "How Does It Feel" – and it's like that all happened in another life. Who are those carefree girls in the picture? Everything is so different now.

I'm not just talking about what happened within the Misfits, either. I mean what's going on in the outside world as well. Not that I was ever all that interested in life outside of the music industry –music is what it's all about for me, always – but recent world events have given me no choice.

It's been over a year since the Stingers arrived and took over our record company. Thank God we were able to get Pizzazz out of Riot's clutches. Oh, she still has a crush on him but the obsession began to fade once we lured her away. And the four of us are closer than ever. Don't get me wrong….we still fight….a lot. Roxy and Jetta both squirmed at some of those scenes in the "Now" video. But I rifle through my old diary entries and I can see how we got to where we are now, step by step. The Misfits are doing better than we ever had as a unit. They are my true friends, my dear family.

At my urging, the band called a truce with Jem and the Holograms. I didn't know which I was happier about – the fact that I wouldn't need to fidget every time I saw Kimber and her bandmates or the fact that I had enough influence over Pizzazz, Roxy, and Jetta to get them to agree to a truce. Once the truce was in place, we got to work on our next album and found more success than ever.

Then all this crap started happening with the new faction that took over the government. Restrictions on what can be shown on television, all sorts of stupid restrictions on single women. Even restrictions on things like alcohol and music. The stock market crashed. The economy tanked and people started looking for scapegoats. Frequent blackouts kept happening, not just in California but all over the place. Gasoline prices surged to sky-high levels. Lots of hatred and fear, and lots of angry people. Half of our promoters backed out, and Riot and Eric cancelled our world tour. Pizzazz was unable to get her father to provide any financial backing. "He's lost billions already," she said once.

We ended up playing in some of the smallest venues we've played since Jetta joined. But I still smiled because I was on stage making music, watching Pizzazz's charisma enthrall the audience (and me), listening to Jetta's amazing sax, and winking at Roxy in the middle of I Like Your Style. There were still some good memories, despite the dark times. I remember sharing a drink with the girls backstage after one show, in the smallest dressing room we'd had in a long while, and we laughed and joked around together. Jetta had raided Pizzazz's father's dwindling booze supply and snuck in the bottle. We weren't given any glasses and all ended up drinking out of the same bottle.

(Okay, the next night we did have another fight and partially trashed the room, Pizzazz said something to me that made me cry, but it didn't matter. We knew our bond was there and wasn't going away).

But back to all the stuff that's going on in society, I'm not a Political Science professor or a Sociologist. I don't know why it's all happening but I do know that some of what's going on is terrifying.

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The Misfits really began to understand that things had changed several months ago. They were having dinner at a restaurant. Due to a late night recording session, the famished group was unable to eat at one of their usual, five-star restaurants; those had hadn't been forced to shut down were simply closed for the night. Pizzazz drove them to a much less ritzy place. It wasn't much, but at least it had sit-down service and a tempting dessert menu.

As usual, the band members were eating with gusto. Roxy had finished her entrée quickly, so she reached over and helped herself to bites from Stormer's plate of chicken teriyaki. Stormer smiled and truly didn't mind. She felt slightly jealous that Roxy could eat all she wanted and never gain a pound while she herself had to watch every bite she ate.

The third time Roxy swiped some food off Stormer's plate, she scooped up too much with the fork and ended up spilling some of the food onto Stormer's arm. Stormer made a face.

"Bad enough you take my food without asking, now you dump it on me too," she said with a laugh, feigning outrage. The group laughed.

"Where's that server?" Pizzazz soon asked, as she slammed her fork on the table. "I want dessert and I want it now. Look at this list!" she exclaimed, holding a dessert menu.

"Oooh, that brownie a la mode looks fine," Jetta said. Her hearty appetite had been one of the reasons she'd fit right in with the Misfits.

"I'm gonna have a banana split," Pizzazz said.

"Lemme see," Roxy said, as she reached for a dessert menu. She could read now, though it was not an activity she either enjoyed or excelled in. Stormer had spent some time helping her learn. Fortunately, the menu had lots of tantalizing pictures as well so it didn't require much literary effort on Roxy's part. "Humph. This apple pie looks good but it's way too healthy," Roxy remarked. Stormer giggled.

The server appeared, and he was made to wait a while as Roxy and Stormer made up their minds. When he finally had their orders, Pizzazz told him to, "Hurry up!"

While eating their dessert, Pizzazz told the group about a date she'd had a few days ago with some guy. Her story had several moments that were rated "R".

A uniformed man soon appeared at the band's table. "Excuse me, ladies," he said. "I must ask you to leave this establishment."

"What?!" Pizzazz asked, her mouth full of whipped cream and chocolate.

"I'm with the Office of American Morality. The manager called me when customers complained about your behavior and your comments. I must ask you to leave."

"Sod off," Jetta said, laughing. She took another bite of her brownie.

"Yeah, take a hike!" Roxy added. "You can't make us leave."

Shortly afterwards, the Misfits found themselves handcuffed and taken to the police station. It was crawling with officers from the American Morality office. After a frantic call to Eric Raymond, the band's manager said there was nothing he could do. Harvey Gabor bailed them out after a few hours, but he sternly told his daughter that this would be the last time he'd come to her rescue. Pizzazz, suddenly much more sober, believed him.

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Of course The Misfits aren't my only family. Craig is my only living relative. I was looking through old diary entries and I saw what I wrote a while ago, when I visited him in London. The other Misfits had been elsewhere, finding out that Jetta's origins weren't as blue blooded as she'd claimed.

Craig and I scarcely had five minutes alone together. But the day I was to leave, he and I sat down to breakfast together….at long last getting some uninterrupted time one-on-one.

"Aja told me something yesterday," he said to me. That tone was in his voice, and I instantly knew what this was going to be about.

"What was that?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"She said that you were offered the chance to join the Holograms."

"Yeah. I was, right after Kimber and I finished our record a while back."

"And you turned them down? To go back to the Misfits??" his voice was incredulous. "Mary," he scoffed, shaking his head.

"I like the Holograms. But I don't have any desire to join the band."

"Yeah, much better to go back to the Misfits so the others can put you down and boss you around. Mary, I told you…..you are too good for that band. They don't deserve you!"

"Craig, you don't understand. I….it's hard to explain, but you don't understand."

"Well, maybe you can enlighten me. Why the hell did you go back?"

I took a deep breath and searched for the right words. I love my brother but sometimes he can intimidate me. (But then again, what was it that Jetta once told me? That I can be intimidated by an ant.)

"Lots of reasons. Look, Craig, you don't realize what the Misfits went through to get me back. They walked into Starlight Music and they…they humbled themselves in front of Jem and the Holograms – a band they hate – to ask for me back. I think that was one of the hardest things that Pizzazz ever did."

"Yeah, well your pals are all a fine bunch of actresses. How do you know they were sincere?"

"Because they wouldn't have gone through that if they didn't need me! And I mean, me, not just my songwriting skills. There are thousands of songwriters in LA and even more musicians. They could've replaced me in two seconds flat if they just wanted me for my music. But they wanted me back.

"And besides," I continued, seeing that Craig was listening, "I've always thought that I can make them better. They….they – okay, I can't explain it but they're not evil people. I see goodness in each and every one of them and I think I can make a difference and make them a little better."

"So far you've done a bang-up job."

"Give me time. The more I learn about Pizzazz and Roxy's backgrounds, the more I know they went through hell." I added, "I don't know Jetta well enough but I can see some of that inside her too."

Craig was looking down and shaking his head. "I won't argue with you anymore on this, Mary. If being a Misfit makes you happy, then fine. I still don't agree with you, but it's your life and not mine. If you ever need me though…."

"I know, I know," I said.

Of course there were other reasons I went back to the Misfits, too. Reasons I haven't shared with Craig, reasons I keep very secret.

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"So where the hell is he?" Roxy asked.

Pizzazz shook her head as she paced the floor. Jetta watched her friend, thinking that Pizzazz looked somewhere between frustrated and bemused.

"Riot wouldn't tell me. But I think the fact is that Riot doesn't know. My best guess is that he took whatever money he had left and fled for some Caribbean island."

"So who the 'ell cares?" Jetta asked, shrugging. "We're better off without Eric, if you asked me."

"Damn right," Roxy said. "He hasn't done jack shit for us the last year." As she spoke, she ran her fingers over a bookcase, picking up a layer of dust. She rubbed the dust between her fingertips. The Gabor mansion had cut back on its servants. Harvey Gabor would go for days without being seen by anyone, still toiling away in his office though most of his staff was gone.

"Yeah. We can manage ourselves better than he could anyway," Stormer said. She knew that Eric hadn't been handling the societal changes well either.

"We still have those East coast and Midwest dates coming up," Jetta said. "I think we should keep them. We can get out east and play there."

"No way," Roxy said, her voice pugnacious again. "It's the middle of the f---in' winter. I ain't gonna drive out to some of the coldest cities in the country and get stuck in some godforsaken hotel room when the power shuts down again. I say we stay right here! We're safer in the mansion than anywhere else."

"What's up, Rox?" Jetta asked, an edge creeping into her voice that caused Stormer's skin to prickle. "Gettin' a bit claustrophobic, are we?"

"You're one to talk!" The fire was flashing in Roxy's eyes and she looked ready to pounce.

As did Jetta. Acid was in her voice as she asked, "Afraid to get out into the real world, then, luv?"

Stormer silently took a breath and stood up from the decrepit chair. She silently reminded herself of her new role and power within the group. "Hey guys," she said, stepping between Roxy and Jetta. Her hands were up and open. "Is this really worth a fight? We were talking about what we're going to do as a band now that our manager has run out on us. I'm kinda uneasy about everything that's going on, but I do know that wherever we go, we're safer and better off together. Together," she repeated.

Pizzazz smiled condescendingly. "Dear Stormer, always the peacemaker."

Stormer felt a disappointing jab at her heart. She knew that Pizzazz recognized how much Stormer – and her peacemaking skills – were needed in the group. Why does she always have to dig me in the ribs like that though?' she asked herself, though Stormer knew the answer. Pizzazz's insecurity was overwhelming at times.

"But she's got a point," Pizzazz continued, and this time her voice conveyed sincerity. Stormer inwardly smiled again though she chided herself for always being so hung up on what the others thought of her. "We're not gonna beat each other up over this, okay? We gotta figure out what we're doing. We got dates coming up. I don't want to leave LA either, but I think we need those dates," Pizzazz insisted.

Jetta looked through a stack of papers 'liberated' from Eric's office. "Ticket sales are looking good," she said, reviewing some numbers. Although the venues were small clubs, sales were about as strong as could be expected. "Pretty amazing actually, when you consider what the economy's like."

"These numbers are really good," Stormer enthused. "We still have so many fans who want to see us!"

"So they want to see us even though we're a band comprised of single woman, and single women are….what did that crazy Secretary of American Morality say?" Pizzazz groused, remembering seeing one of the leading government officials on television the other day.

"I believe the exact quote was that any woman over the age of twenty-one who does not have a husband and a baby – in that order -- is irresponsible and contributing to moral decline of society!" Jetta said. Roxy scoffed at the words, as Jetta added, "I would suggest we move to my homeland if things weren't just as bad there."

"And everywhere else," Roxy mumbled.

Though terrified at all the changes happening, Stormer's love of the music won out. "I think we should risk it. Let's play the shows. Who knows? Maybe things will turn around. If they do, and we keep our fan base…." She let her voice trail off.

"Then maybe someday we'll look back on all these shitty times and laugh," Pizzazz finished. She went up to Roxy and put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "C'mon, Roxy. It won't be so bad."

"Alright," Roxy said. "Though if Eric ever returns, I'm popping him one for scheduling us in places like New York and Chicago in the middle of January."

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"Man, they sure don't like homo's here, do they?" Roxy commented, watching TV.

The Misfits were watching TV in the motel room. Between gigs, there wasn't much to do. The nearest shopping mall had just closed down. The band had ample time before they needed to leave for the next city. Pizzazz sat on the hard mattress, vaguely remembering days of hotel suites larger than apartments, days of gourmet room service at her beck and call.

"What are you on about now?" Jetta asked, as she emerged from the bathroom. She was clad in a robe, with a towel around her wet hair. The dingy motel made her feel in constant need of bathing.

"Some guy from….I dunno, that Department of Morality or whatever it's called. He was announcing that they got some way to tell if someone's a homo from taking a blood test or something. I guess a lot of cities are sayin' they're gonna make people take this test if they wanna get in."

Jetta rolled her eyes. "What a useful way to spend all that bloody tax money."

Pizzazz smiled, as she pulled her jacket more closely around her, "You oughtta run for office Jetta."

"Not bloody likely." She looked at Stormer. "How's that heater coming on?"

Stormer's hands shook slightly as she made no progress on her attempted repairs of the room's heating unit.

"I can't figure it out. Roxy, would you take a look at this? You're the best at this kind of stuff."

Piqued at the compliment, Roxy turned her attention away from the TV and sauntered over to Stormer. After tinkering with it for a few minutes, she pronounced it broken beyond repair.

"The manager better get us another room, then," Pizzazz said. "It's bad enough we have to double up, but we're not sleeping in rooms where the heat doesn't work!"

Jetta looked at Pizzazz and saw that a lot of the old mischievousness was on the wane. Pizzazz wasn't vaulting out of the room and hunting the manager down….partially because she knew that there probably wasn't much that could be done about their situation right now. She seemed content to sit on the bed and observe. The Pizzazz of old would've used some of that fire to get the band started in making trouble, running around the halls, and finding people to mess with. Pizzazz just seemed defeated now. Jetta didn't know whether this was because her friend was getting older, because they all had mellowed a bit lately, or whether she was simply shell-shocked at all the changes going on. She knew that money was not Pizzazz's motivation in life – not at all -- but she also knew that the Gabor's dwindling finances couldn't be helping Pizzazz's spirits either.

Jetta looked over at Roxy and guessed that, as different as they were, they both wanted desperately to see the Pizzazz of old --- at least sometimes.

"Hey Pizzazz," Jetta began, an undertone in her voice, "I saw a few blokes in the lobby on our way up." She had pulled on a dress and looked as fetching as normal, as she towel-dried her hair.

Roxy perked up. "I noticed 'em too! They were young."

"And they looked dishy," Jetta said, almost purring.

The prospect of a conquest brought some cheer to Pizzazz. "Let's go!"

As Roxy, Jetta, and Pizzazz headed for the door, Stormer crawled under the covers. "I'll stay here. I'm in the middle of this book."

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I was a late bloomer. Didn't have a date in high school, graduated without having ever been kissed. I spent my free time on the piano, and later on the synthesizer. I had two or three close friends, all girls. Later, when I joined the Misfits, I'd often hear Pizzazz and Roxy cooing over some guy and I listened, but I didn't quite get it.

Then the clues started creeping in. Once early on, the three of us went swimming, and I glimpsed Roxy in that teeny-tiny bikini and my heart jumped three notches. Once Pizzazz walked by me, and I noticed she had this heady perfume on and I blushed. She's made me brush her hair several times and that caused me to get these strange sensations. But the big kicker came when we were staying at this amazing hotel that included a spa. Jetta and I had massages scheduled at the same time, and we were changing in the locker room together. Of course I had my back to Jetta but a loud noise made me turn my head, and I glimpsed a graceful back with this beautiful hair cascading down, and I caught a sideways look at a curvaceous breast.

If it was just the three of them that I got these occasional feelings for, I could write it off and say maybe my insides were going haywire because I had no other female friends or I missed my mom or I didn't know better or I idolized them or something. But I started to notice how beautiful all women were and my thoughts would turn deeper and more personal than just noticing beauty. So I don't just feel it for my bandmates though I feel it a bit stronger for them, if that makes any sense.

And then there was the time that the four of us went to see this show. Male strippers, strippers who went "the full monty", as Jetta had put it. They did nothing for me, just made me want to giggle at the sausages hanging down between their legs. I couldn't see why all the other girls in the audience thought they were so hot. I went out with guys a few times – I wanted to give it a try and didn't want the other Misfits to get suspicious – but none of the guys sparked anything in me. I even spent the night with a few different guys and, well, nothing.

So, gradually, my ears would perk up when someone would mention something that involved homosexuality. I dejectedly started to realize that it applied to me. I already fought a constant battle with confidence, and now I had to fight a battle to keep from hating myself. Maybe 'hate' is too strong a word, but I sure didn't like this about me.

I didn't tell my bandmates. For one, they aren't the most open-minded people. I couldn't recall any of them ever saying anything really nasty about gay people, but I didn't think any of them would receive the news well either. In fact, I was pretty sure that if they knew, they would either make me leave or make things so awkward for me that I'd have to leave. And I can't leave them because no matter how rough things sometimes are among us, this band is my family and I love them.

I should mention that I did tell Kimber Benton. We were so close, so briefly during that time that we made our album together. She somehow knew I was hiding something, and she wouldn't let it drop until I told her. So I did. The earth didn't shatter, we stayed friends, but I could tell that she wasn't totally comfortable. She promised not to reveal it to anyone else, but the experience of telling her sure didn't make me want to discuss it with others.

So I keep my secret buried and hope that maybe someday I'll outgrow this (not too likely but you never know) or that I can continue to hide it. Sometimes I dream that the rest of the Misfits find out and are cool with it. But mostly when my thoughts go there I see them laughing with disgust and derision at me, and me breaking down and crying.

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Pizzazz soaked up the applause. They may have been playing in a tiny club somewhere in the Midwest – a club that, a year or two ago she would've been horrified at the prospect of performing in – still, adulation was adulation. During "Abracadabra" she saw the eyes follow her with rapt attention. There were advantages to these crappy little venues, she thought. She could easily see the audience, could more easily absorb their admiration. Her eye contact held incredible power.

"Take a lesson from us," Pizzazz told the audience in between songs. "You can't be soft and survive!"

That was the cue for the group to launch into "It Takes A Lot". A cheer rose up from the audience when they heard the first notes of this classic Misfits tune.

Roxy admired Pizzazz's performing. Despite the fact that her lead singer was not happy playing to such a small crowd, she gave it her all. She sang with the same panache as if she were playing a live concert being broadcast around the world or to an arena of 9,000. Being admired by thousands of people had to be better than being admired by this small audience, but this was also a lot better than nothing and Roxy realized that Pizzazz knew this. Roxy tried to motivate herself to bring the same fire to her guitar playing.

After the show, the group packed up their instruments in preparation for the walk back to the motel. There was no point in complaining about the lack of roadies or the fact that they were reduced to walking rather than taking a limo. When the economy started its sharp decline and when both their record company and Mr. Gabor started to bail on them, there had been plenty of fits of rage and lots of instrument smashing. But by now the group knew it didn't do them any good and that things weren't about to change anytime soon. Besides, they couldn't afford to break any more instruments.

Despite being bundled in a toasty jacket, Roxy was cold. The brutal winter air nipped at her ears and she wished that she hadn't eschewed wearing a hat. The cold ripped right through her gloves and her fingers were starting to turn numb. In the distance, Roxy heard a car crashing and the blaring of sirens. A block away she could hear shouting and signs of an altercation.

The area of Philadelphia she'd grown up in was not unlike this, except here there seemed to be even more boarded-up shops and more garbage lining the streets now. There were more people wearing raggedly clothing huddled in doorways, and more of them were children.

"Pick it up, Stormer!" Pizzazz called, noticing that the group's keyboardist was now several paces behind the rest.

Roxy turned around and saw Stormer lagging. Carrying her instrument case was clearly a struggle for her. "What is it?" she asked, dropping back a few paces. "Is your wrist still bothering you?"

Stormer nodded. "Here," Roxy said. "Let's switch." Her guitar was lighter than Stormer's keyboards.

"Thanks, Roxy," Stormer said quietly.

"You alright, luv?" Jetta asked, her voice conveying a note or two of empathy. Stormer nodded.

Suddenly, a group of men ran from an alley and nearly collided with the Misfits. One of them reached for Pizzazz, as he brandished a knife.

"Don't move a muscle, bitch!" he commanded.

Roxy instantly grabbed the man who'd come up to her, and she kicked first his shin and then his groin. As he doubled over in pain, she lunged at the surprised man who'd turned his knife on Pizzazz. She grabbed his wrist, keeping it out of the way, and kicked him hard until he was forced to drop the knife. In her element, Roxy turned to the next gang member and noticed a few of the guys beginning to run. Jetta took her cue and hit a would-be attacker over the head with her saxophone case. The man crumpled to the ground as Jetta brandished her saxophone case at the next attacker. Pizzazz and Stormer joined in, though Roxy and Jetta had already decked most of the gang.

The Misfits ran the rest of the way back to the motel.

"Nice work Roxy," Pizzazz said, as they walked towards their rooms.

"You were awesome!" Stormer added. She turned to Jetta and added, "And you, too!"

Much later, when she was trying fall asleep shivering under the blankets in her room, Roxy mused that she had just about come full circle in life. She was a little too puffed up with pride to fall asleep just yet, though. The rest of the band had seen her bravery, seen how she'd led the counter-attack. Her background and street smarts, which had been the subject of several derisive remarks from Pizzazz over the years, had come in handy. Pizzazz was always short on praise but she knew what she'd done had been appreciated.

Gradually, Roxy drifted off into sleep. She had a cut on one arm and several scrapes. Just like when she was growing up. She woke up several times during the night, plagued by horrific memories of beatings by her mother and her mother's various boyfriends over the years.

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To be continued…..

Feedback is always appreciated. Please leave a review or email me directly


	2. Chapter 2

**Farewell to Life the Way We Knew It**

By Stormkeeper

Disclaimer

All characters © Hasbro Inc. and Sunbow Entertainment. Please don't sue me – I'm not making any money of this fanfic and it is done solely for the enjoyment of those who have been faithful fans (not to mention, faithful purchasers of DVDs and dolls) of Jem for years.

Author's notes: 

I'm using a format that alternates between scenes written from Stormer's point of view and others told from the standpoint of an omniscient narrator.

The overall rating for this fic is PG-13, but this particular chapter is rated R. This chapter contains some adult situations and disturbing scenes.

I wish to extend a big thank you to my wonderful beta-testers. You know who you are, and I couldn't have done it without you.

Enjoy the story, and please give feedback!

-------------------------------

**CHAPTER TWO**

_Pizzazz: "Now you take the Misfits."_

_Stormer: "Yeah, that's a name that means something!"_

_-- Kimber's Rebellion_

"Let's haul ass!" Pizzazz said, when we all met in the lobby. We were packed and ready to leave the city.

"Yeah, it's a long way to Chicago and our next gig isn't going to wait," Jetta said.

"Oh joy," Roxy muttered. I guessed she wasn't much looking forward to a long car ride. I wasn't either, especially if Pizzazz was going to be doing the driving. Her driving skills had improved marginally but the worst part was her swearing and screaming at every vehicle that got in her way. Oh well. At least I knew it helped her let off some steam, which she desperately needs to do – almost constantly.

Pizzazz came up to me, mumbled "Here", and picked up my instrument case. Inwardly, I smiled. That was her way of saying, 'Good morning, how are you?' and recognizing that my wrist had been bothering me. Coming from her, that was quite a lot actually.

I followed the band out to where we'd left the car, glad to be free from having to haul my equipment. I only had my duffle bag to carry, and I rummaged around in my purse for my sunglasses. Despite the freezing weather, the sun was out. It was actually a beautiful day. I started to think that maybe things would turn out alright somehow. I mean, at least I had a band I loved being in.

The motel didn't have a parking lot so we had a few blocks to walk before reaching where we'd parked the car. "Hang on, let's stop here," Roxy said as we passed a vending machine. She purchased several bags of cookies and candy bars.

"Not much of a breakfast, but what can ya do?" Roxy said, as she took a bite of a cookie. She extended the other half of the cookie to Pizzazz but she shook her head. Jetta and I did the same when offered.

"Ah, remember when Stormer used to cook for us?" Jetta said, and I smiled at the obvious delight in her voice.

"That was a kick ass breakfast she'd make," Roxy said. "Mmmmm….omelets with cheese and vegetables, baked beans. And the fruit salad."

"And scones that were warm and moist," Jetta added.

"I'll cook for us again at the drop of a hat," I said. "If we ever stay at a place with a kitchen."

I do have to admit that I have a talent for cooking. I'd always known that my bandmates love food. Roxy especially, she even loves vegetables and fruit and she'll gladly eat them when offered. I'd been experimenting with cooking more lately and the group really liked it. But during this tour, and our last one, we were living off the garbage sold in vending machines, fast food, and pizza.

"You're ten times better than any of the cooks we had at the mansion," Pizzazz said, and again I smiled. A compliment from Pizzazz was a rare thing indeed.

Then we reached the car. It was totaled. The tires were all gone, and the seats had been ripped out. No more steering wheel. To top it off, the front and back ends were smashed in. Whether someone targeted us specifically or it was just random, I had no idea.

I sat on the curb as Pizzazz threw a tantrum, joined by Roxy. Jetta paced around. At least we hadn't left anything valuable in the car.

It started to dawn on me that Pizzazz herself could someday be a target. She wasn't really that rich anymore but she was better off than most people, and people knew who she was too. I shuddered at the thoughts that followed and wondered whether maybe Roxy was right and we would've been safer just staying at the mansion. I looked around the street and hoped that no one was watching us.

"We can either buy a new one or rent one," Jetta said, when Pizzazz's outburst was subsiding.

"Fat chance," Roxy said. "I don't think too many of the rental places are still in business."

"There are a few," Pizzazz said. "We could just buy one too but I don't want to spend the money. Or haggle with dealers." Bargaining was not one of Pizzazz's strong suits. She'd grown up always having material things handed to her.

"What about the train?" Jetta said. "We're not far from the station and there's one direct to Chicago."

Jetta's idea carried the day. Before I knew it, we were on board a train en route to Chicago.

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"If that brat doesn't stop crying, I'm gonna smash his head in," Pizzazz said. The crowded train continued towards its destination. The Misfits sat together, in a car that contained several children. One infant was wailing loudly.

"Same here. Why don't that little monster's parents shut him up?" Jetta growled.

Stormer's eyes darted around, worried. A group of bored Misfits was not always a good thing. A group of bored, tired, and angry Misfits spelled disaster. She quietly excused herself.

A few moments passed and the infant began another round of wailing, this time louder and accompanied by another, older, child. "I can't take another second!" Pizzazz said. She stood up, ready to give the parents a piece of her mind just as Stormer re-entered the car.

"Hey, guys!" Stormer began. "The next car's a sleeping car. It's quiet in there and there's no kids there either. And believe it or not, there are some empty seats. C'mon!"

"But if it's a sleeping car, then we gotta be quiet too," Roxy said, decidedly unenthused.

"Maybe that's not a bad thing. It's been a long time since we got any sleep. C'mon, before the seats get taken!"

"All right, all right, Miss Bossy!" Pizzazz said. Stormer had to bite her tongue to keep from pointing out that Pizzazz was not one to be accusing others of bossiness.

The sleeping car did not have a 'four pack' of empty seats but it did have two different packs of two seats free.

Pizzazz ended up next to Roxy. After a few moments, Pizzazz heard the unmistakable sound of Roxy snoring. She'd dozed off almost instantly. The snoring sound was irritating but at least she didn't have to listen to those annoying brats anymore.

Pizzazz hated kids. Especially kids with doting, loving parents who lavished them with affection and attention. Who loved them and didn't leave them. Didn't walk out on them or send them away to boarding school because they didn't want them.

She glanced over at Jetta and Stormer's seats, which were across the aisle and a few rows up. Stormer had her nose in some book and Jetta appeared to be napping. Pizzazz, never the most reflective person, took a moment to ponder the fact that her family had lost most of its wealth, uncertainly and chaos loomed in every corner, their tour was not the show-stopping event it used to be, but somehow the persistent insecurity she'd known her whole life was not gnawing at her that much. She had spent the better part of the last several years worried that those she cared about the most would leave her. Right now, she knew that they would not. It was as simple as that.

Of course she didn't admit to herself, consciously, that she cared. Vulnerability was not a place she liked to be in, though after the fiasco with Riot she was at least more accustomed to it.

----------------------------------

The train pulled into Chicago – or so we thought. As usual, it was mass panic with us gathering our belongings and trying to dodge the families with wailing kids and older people. I saw Roxy practically elbow someone out of her way. Sometimes I wished my bandmates were not so positively rude to everyone they encountered.

Once we got off the train, we didn't make it very far though. All of the train passengers were herded into a large station with a spacious waiting area. The doors were all locked. A government official, from the American Morality office, made an announcement. He told us that the city needed to "prohibit any criminals from entering" and therefore everyone would be detained at the "morality station" (as it was called) for detailed background checks.

He went on to inform us that this station was not actually in Chicago. We were on the city limits. Those whose backgrounds checked out would be able to board an el train for the city.

I don't suppose I need to mention how thrilled and delighted my bandmates were with that piece of news. Lots of kvetching followed as we waited in line. But they were fairly well-behaved, since we all knew from experience that messing with the Morality office could put us in big trouble.

As we waited, I started to grow anxious with thoughts about these detailed background checks. We Misfits had not exactly been angels over the years, but we had managed to avoid getting any criminal records. Of course Roxy had quite a record from her days on the streets in Philly but I once heard her say that her permanent file had been cleared (whether that was due to the fact that she had been a juvenile at the time or due to Pizzazz's lawyers, I don't know). After our earlier run-in with the Morality Office, we were told that our records had been taken care of too, thank goodness.

But then my anxiety deepened. I dimly remembered something I'd seen on TV several days ago. I fought to breathe at a normal rate as my thoughts spiraled downwards and my fears grew. I felt my face become hot.

"What is it, yank?" Jetta asked me quietly.

"Nothin'," I said. "Just bored with waiting in line." But I noticed that Roxy and even Pizzazz looked mildly concerned. I made myself smile and just told myself that everything would turn out ok; it always does.

Finally, it was our turn. The guard asked how many were in our party and when Pizzazz said four, I thought they would keep us together. But instead we were ushered into separate rooms, and I found myself sitting in a small one with cement walls and ceiling. The sparse room contained a desk and two chairs and lots of fancy equipment. The officer sat down on the opposite side of the desk.

He was a young man, not any older than his early thirties. The look in his eyes was disturbing. I handed him my identification papers, and he then asked me a series of questions about my background. He asked for my name, date of birth, place of birth, and social security number. He asked the whereabouts of my brother and questioned me for a bit on what Craig was doing in England. He asked me whether I had spent any time in jail and whether I had ever gone to court over any violation more serious than a traffic ticket. He even asked me what books and magazines I had read on the train.

The officer then had me hold a finger under a scanner. The computer read the fingerprint and the officer stared at the readouts for a minute.

"So far, so good," he said. I felt a twinge of relief.

Then the man rummaged around in a drawer for some equipment. He put on a pair of plastic gloves and said, "Now hold out a finger. This will just hurt for a second – it'll feel like a pin prick."

"What's it for?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"There's two things this new blood test can do. We can tell whether you have any drugs in your system – at least the most common ones. We don't need to do those cumbersome urine tests anymore. We can also use this test to tell if someone's a homosexual. We run the results through the DNA scanner. Don't worry, it's standard procedure; we have to give this test to everyone. Don't want any riff raff in Chicago. Most cities are gonna start adopting these soon – they have to if they want to keep their funding from the Department."

My hand trembled as he drew the blood. I silently began to pray. Maybe I would pass the test. I knew I was a lesbian but I'd never actually acted on it before (once I circled a women's bar four times but never had the courage to go in). So maybe the test would pass me right over.

"You nervous?" he asked. His voice was devoid of concern; it sounded more like curiosity than anything.

"Um, well no. It's just that….what if I get a false positive?" I was grasping at straws here.

"You won't," he said, as he drew the blood. He entered the specimen into the machine. "The Department has put a ton of funding into this – this test here is the result of a breakthrough. You don't get any false positives from these tests. False negatives happen a lot though but they're working on ways to clamp down on those."

A spark of hope! So false negatives happen "a lot." Maybe I'd be safe. As the computer took its time reading the specimen, I silently prayed harder. Please, God, please not after I've been so good, after everything I've been through. Please please please, not when being a Misfit means more to me than anything in my life.'

The officer looked surprised when he read the results off the computer screen. I already had tears forming when he said, "You'd better come with me."

-----------------------------

"You ladies do know this is the last el train tonight, don't you?" a conductor asked the three women who were waiting in the station. "We're leavin' in ten minutes and the next one's not till morning. You can't spend the night in the station either and you don't wanna be out on the street." The station was deserted except for the Misfits and one or two station employees milling around.

"Buzz off," Pizzazz snapped. The Misfits were tired and cold, and very eager to get to their motel in Chicago. Pizzazz couldn't wait to take a warm bath and climb into a soft bed. She felt as though every muscle in her body ached.

"Where the 'ell is she??" Jetta asked. It was a rhetorical question. Over an hour ago they had asked an official if he could check on their friend's whereabouts. All he'd told them was that he had no idea but sometimes they hold people for questioning if something doesn't check out.

"I'm gonna hit her for making us wait! Sheesh, Stormer's the last one of us who I'd have thought would have any trouble," Pizzazz said.

"Yeah, what they got on Miss Goody Two Shoes?" Roxy wondered, though there was no malice in the nickname she'd just dubbed Stormer with.

Several more minutes passed. Finally, an officer led Stormer towards the rest of the group.

"Well, it's about f---ing time!" Pizzazz said. As they came closer, though, she noticed that Stormer's hands were handcuffed behind her back. Her face looked like death.

During that split second when she'd seen her bandmates' faces, Stormer questioned her decision. She'd begged and pleaded to at least be given the chance to bid farewell to her friends. It had seemed like a good idea. She owed them an explanation; she owed them at least that much. But now, as her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach and a new lump welled up in her throat, she wished that she were anywhere but here. Maybe it would have been much better to not see them again than to have their last moments together be one where she'd see disgust on their faces, directed at her.

"What's goin' on?" Roxy asked, without her usual bravado.

"I, um…you guys there's been a problem," Stormer said. There was one thing that she had resolved – no matter what, she would not cry. No matter what they said to her, she would get through this and not be seen bawling like a baby. But then again, what does it matter now?' she thought to herself. 'I don't think I can sink any lower in their minds.' Her face was burning. She mustered her voice again and said, "You see, there's….I failed one of the tests. They're gonna keep me here for some questioning."

"Failed the test? What is it, luv?" Jetta asked. "Which part did you fail?"

"Well, I…um ---"

"She's a dyke, is what she's trying to say," the officer said. It was the same official who had administered the test to her. He'd given her a second test just to make sure. He found himself quite enjoying her humiliation.

"A what?" Pizzazz asked. She'd thought he said one thing, but she didn't believe her ears.

"Your friend failed the homosexuality test," the officer answered. "We've got a lot of officials at the Morality Office who are going to want to talk to her tomorrow."

"Is that true?" Roxy asked, looking directly at Stormer. "Like….are you gay?"

Stormer nodded though she couldn't meet Roxy's gaze. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Stormer then took a quick look at the Misfits' faces and saw more surprise than anything else. Then she looked down, not being able to bear more. The el train conductor called out, "Final boarding call! Anyone who doesn't want to spend the rest of the night outside the station better get on board right now."

"Y-you guys had better go," Stormer said, her voice quivering. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

There were a few seconds of stunned silence. The officer roughly grabbed Stormer, "C'mon, sweetheart," he said, yanking her away from her bandmates and back towards the station.

Jetta touched Pizzazz's and Roxy's arms. "The train's starting to move," she said quietly. "Let's go."

The three made it on board just before the doors closed for the final time.

-----------------------------

Stormer's cell was dank and cold. "What's gonna happen to me now?" she asked the officer. Her body felt numb all over.

"You'll stay here for the night. Tomorrow you and the other criminals are gonna be questioned. You'll probably go to jail. Each city's handling it differently so I can't say how long your sentence is going to be." He then stopped in his tracks. "You know, sweetheart. I haven't filed my report yet." A disturbing tone crept into his voice. His eyes looked her up and down. "You're awfully pretty for a lesbian."

Stormer didn't know what to say so she averted her eyes. The bare cell had a bad odor and, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw something small moving.

"I could be persuaded to not file those papers and just let you go," he continued. "If you'd be willing to cooperate with me."

As revolted as she was, Stormer forced herself to track with him. She realized that she might have a chance at getting free. "Cooperate with you in what way?" she asked.

"Oh, I think you know what I mean. Come back to my office and I'll show you. I've got a couch in there."

"If I do this….you'll let me go?"

"Yes."

Stormer allowed herself to be led to the office.

-----------------------------

Outside of the station, it was freezing cold. The wind ripped relentlessly across my face. I tried to bury myself inside my coat and scarf.

I wished the cold would make my insides feel as numb as my fingers and toes, but it didn't. I'd never felt more degraded or more disgusting in my entire life. The ordeal with the officer had been physically and mentally sickening. I'd tried to tune him out as he called me all sorts of filthy names. I'd tried to remind myself that I had done this with guys before but this time it was a hundred times worse. I wanted a shower badly.

But even worse than that was the feeling I got when I thought of my bandmates. Well, they didn't yell at me or tell me to stay the hell out of their lives. Of course the officer didn't give them much of a chance to react at all before he dragged me away. But they boarded that train and left me. Maybe they can still do their gig tomorrow. Maybe they can just forget about me, find another musician.

The station was in the middle of nowhere. Nothing nearby but a huge abandoned factory, a gigantic warehouse that stretched for miles, and a few decaying buildings. I huddled in the entranceway of one of those buildings, trying to get out of the wind. I wished I'd had some of Roxy's or Jetta's street smarts. There were several suspicious characters milling around and I had to hope that none would take an interest in me. But in some ways, I just didn't care anymore either.

I had no idea where I'd go next. I was out of the Misfits for sure. I had a decent amount of money saved but I wasn't sure what my legal status was now and how hard it might be to retrieve those funds. The officer said he wouldn't file the report on me, so I guess I was a free woman….but how long before I get caught by another blood test? How many cities would let me in without doing one of those tests now? I considered that perhaps I could call Craig….England was falling apart too but last I'd heard I think it was maybe doing better than here. Maybe he could somehow come and get me and bring me back with him. That is, if he would want anything to do with me once he found out my secret. I thought that maybe I could go crying back to Kimber Benton, but then again she didn't seem too comfortable when I told her….and her bandmates are so much on the straight and narrow that I can't believe they'd help me. Maybe if I pleaded with them that I'd seen the light and was trying to reform.

But even then, I'd miss my former bandmates so much. I wanted the Misfits. The thought that they now despised me was the worst. It was worse than anything the officer did to me.

I was too devastated to think anymore that night. I tried to cry but I think I was out of tears. So I sat in the entranceway. Each breath I took caused an assault of pain and fear and misery.

I couldn't sleep so I just huddled there, absolutely heartsick. The minutes and hours plodded by. I wondered if maybe this would toughen me up for good. Maybe I'll be like how my former bandmates were not long ago (and, to some extent, still are) – someone with a hard shell around her heart, someone who can't ever be hurt again. I guess if you get pulverized enough, something kicks in and protects you, makes you incapable of feeling so you don't have to ever have another heartbreak.

--------------------------

Silence reigned on the city streets in the final hours of the morning. The darkness would defer to light in an hour or two, and the streets were fairly deserted by now. There had been talk of instituting a curfew to keep the normal nightly chaos at bay, but at this hour no one was stirring. The air was crisp, and sharp as a bayonet, and the promise of sunlight would not be sufficient to keep the freezing weather at bay. The impending day suggested even colder weather than the previous one.

Stormer vaguely became aware of someone touching her shoulder.

Through the haze, she began to hear voices. Very tired voices.

"Did she pass out?"

"Let's try to carry her."

Stormer opened her eyes. Her foggy mind wondered whether the images before her were the result of her most fervent dream. She rubbed her eyes with a numb hand.

"Good, you're awake," Pizzazz said. Her voice was its usual straightforward tone. "Help her up."

Stormer watched incredulously as Roxy and Jetta slowly, gently hoisted her up and each supported one side of her.

"Can you walk?" Roxy asked. Her voice couldn't be described as tender but she wasn't harsh either.

"I….I think so. My feet are really numb," Stormer's voice was throatier than usual. She wanted to ask, 'Is it really you?' but was at a loss for words.

"Poor dear, you probably have frostbite," Jetta said. Stormer was stunned to realize that the appellation 'poor dear' was not said with any detectable sarcasm.

Roxy and Jetta half-carried Stormer towards a waiting taxi. During the slow walk, Stormer couldn't help but to stammer, "You…you came back for me." Her eyes were bleary but when she looked at her bandmates, she saw unmistakable concern. Their actions, though, spoke even louder than that.

"Yeah, well don't get all mushy about it," Pizzazz replied. Stormer thought she may have even seen a small smile, maybe even an indication of relief, on Pizzazz's face.

Despite the miserable night, Stormer felt a small smile show itself on her face. Her numbness began to thaw.

-----------------------

TO BE CONTINUED

Please leave a review or email feedback to me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Farewell to Life the Way We Knew It**

By Stormkeeper

Disclaimer:

All characters © Hasbro Inc. and Sunbow Entertainment. Please don't sue me – I'm not making any money of this fanfic and it is done solely for the enjoyment of those who have been faithful fans (not to mention, faithful purchasers of DVDs and dolls) of Jem for years.

Author's note: 

I wish to extend a big thank you to my wonderful beta-testers. You know who you are, and I couldn't have done it without you.

--------------------------------

**CHAPTER THREE**

The trio got into the backseat of the taxi, and Pizzazz sat next to the driver.

"Back to the motel," Pizzazz ordered.

"Shouldn't we take her to the hospital instead?" Roxy asked. "Frostbite's serious stuff."

Pizzazz turned her head and gave Roxy a look that clearly said 'no'. Roxy realized that bringing Stormer to a hospital, or any such institution, would not be sensible now.

"Maybe it's just a bit of frostnip," Jetta said. "That's not as serious. Stormer, what were you doing outside all night? We thought you'd be in -- "

"Let's save the details for later," Pizzazz said sharply. She cocked her head in the direction of the taxi driver. Jetta quieted right down. Discussing this while they were not alone was not smart, even though their driver didn't seem to speak much English. He probably understood quite a bit and, worse yet, he had seemed to recognize the band. When they reached the motel, Pizzazz forked over a large sum of money.

On the way back in to Chicago, they had not had to pass any sort of checkpoint. Right now, the morality stations were only set up to intercept those entering the city via train – those driving in would be safe. That would soon be changing though.

-----------------------------

Several hours earlier, Pizzazz, Roxy, and Jetta had been talking during their el train ride into Chicago, just following their shocking encounter with Stormer. Several moments of awkward silence had plodded by before conversation started. Finally, Jetta broke the silence.

"Well, I guess it makes sense, once you think of it. She hasn't done much dating lately," Jetta had said. "She's never seemed all that interested in the blokes."

"I thought she was shy. I didn't think she was a goddamn lesbian!" Pizzazz had responded angrily. Pizzazz had trouble comprehending the idea of not being attracted to men.

Roxy was playing with the buckle on her jacket. Although she considered Pizzazz to be the one to look up to and perhaps her closest friend, she'd always been very fond of Stormer too, though demonstrating that fondness did not come naturally to her.

"It's too bad she never told us," Jetta added. "Maybe she thought we'd get our knickers in a twist over it. I don't know, I mean I really don't care if someone's gay just as long as she doesn't hit on me."

"Look, you two!" Roxy had burst out. "Stormer's in trouble! She's gonna get interviewed by those creeps from the Morality Office and she could wind up in jail. And what the hell do we do? We leave her there!" She took a breath. "I don't know what we're gonna do when we get to Chicago, anyway. It's not like we can play our gig without her."

"But what can we do?" Jetta asked. "I don't want to mess with the Morality Office. I don't think we're going to have much of a shot at breaking her out of there."

Roxy turned to Pizzazz. "Bribes tend to work real well," she said. She looked at her friend and was surprised, though, to see the fury in Pizzazz's eyes.

"Goddamn her!" Pizzazz raged. "For lying to us all these years and getting herself arrested. For being a ----"

She flew out of her seat and smashed a fist against the window. The durable plastic material of the window did not break but Pizzazz's fist felt the jolt of pain.

The other passengers looked at the Misfits in stunned silence. For the first time, the Misfits took note of their surroundings: the noise the el train made as it sped into the city, the chattering of the other passengers, the seats with the upholstery in need of repair. A conductor, alarmed by the sounds of a possible altercation, rapidly made his way over to where the Misfits sat.

Jetta assessed the situation quickly and threw Pizzazz a look. She and Roxy need to understand that now is not the time to pitch a hissy fit!' she thought fervently.

"What's the matter here, ladies?" the conductor asked.

"I'm truly sorry, officer," Jetta replied, flashing him her most fetching smile. She hoped that despite the late hour and the weary, endless day that she still looked as beautiful as she normally did. "My friend's just a bit upset here because she left a suitcase containing her favorite dress behind."

"If it's at the station, you can always call them tomorrow."

"Thank you, Sir. We will be sure to do that," Jetta said, continuing to dazzle him with a gleaming look in her eyes. She knew the effect she had on men.

"Say…you ladies look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?"

"Not that I know of."

Jetta and the conductor continued their tête-à-tête, as Roxy watched quietly. Much as she often disliked Jetta, she had to admire her technique. Roxy's instinct would've been to grab the conductor and smash his head against the window. In these times, though, Jetta's approach was much more likely to be the successful one. She tried to squelch her envy. It was not difficult because Roxy had numerous and greater worries to contend with then.

Finally, Jetta got rid of the conductor. She turned to Pizzazz and whispered, placing a hand on the leader's shoulder, "Pizzazz, you have to cool it. We can't get away with some of the things we got away with before – especially not now!"

Pizzazz fumed quietly. Saying 'you're right' was not something she often did. So she just rasped back, "Let's talk about this when we get to the motel." She was trembling with anger.

The three Misfits spent the rest of the el train ride, and the walk to the motel, in stony silence.

--------------------------

Once the trio had reached the motel room, Pizzazz let her rage explode full blast. She picked up her suitcase and hurled it against a wall, letting loose a string of expletives. The suitcase split open upon contact with the wall, Pizzazz's dark clothing spilling out. She proceeded to smash the only painting in the small room, a dull black and white rendition of a single flower. All of the old insecurities were mocking her, all the old feelings of being left and betrayed.

"I hate her!" Pizzazz screamed. "That lying, no-good….look at what she's gotten herself in to! Damn her! Damn her to hell!"

Roxy and Jetta sat on one of the beds, physically and mentally exhausted. Roxy's head was pounding. Neither was up to Pizzazz's histrionics right now. They let her go on for a short while until they could tell she was starting to wind down.

"C'mon, Pizzazz, you don't hate her," Roxy finally said. "Think of everything she's done for this group. She pulled us together after you left us for Riot. She pulled us together even more when you returned."

"Not to mention that she wrote most of the music," Jetta added. "She's a bloody brilliant musician."

Pizzazz crossed her arms. Her face was red, though she was starting to calm down. "Well, how touching…the two of you working together over something."

"Look, we need Stormer," Roxy said plainly. "We realized that once before when she left us. Remember??"

The weeks when Stormer had left the Misfits had been some of the darkest in the band's history. As each day had gone by, it had become more and more apparent that the group simply would not have a future without her. Her absence had been felt in more than just the musical arena too.

"Besides, Pizzazz, what does it matter if she's gay?" Jetta asked. "It's not like she's ever made a pass at any of us."

"But the fact that she never told us," Pizzazz seethed.

"Yeah, well, if I was a dyke I'd have kept it quiet around us too. 'Sides, you know how she is," Roxy said. "She was probably all ashamed about it."

"Or in denial. Maybe she was trying to forget about it. To go straight," Jetta offered.

Beyond the fury she was currently experiencing, Pizzazz couldn't help but to note the irony. Both Roxy and Jetta were giving the even-handed, rational advice that Stormer (at least, the new, confident Stormer) had been giving lately. And Pizzazz was smart enough to listen to their words, despite her sour mood.

She slumped down on the other bed. Pizzazz couldn't bear to realize how much she needed the rest of the Misfits. She had freaked when Stormer had quit the group to record with Kimber. Later, when Roxy had left, she had flown into one of the deepest frenzies she'd ever experienced. And even when Jetta's deception had been found out, Pizzazz had never once considered kicking her out. Whether she liked it or not, whether she could admit it to herself or not, she was bound to these three people.

"So what the hell do we do?" Pizzazz asked, putting her hands over her face.

"Well, I have a suggestion," Jetta began. "First, let's try to get some sleep. We're all knackered and I don't think we can do anything for Stormer right now. One of the guards told me that the Morality Office shuts down for the night anyway. Let's get back out there first thing in the morning. We can hire a taxi."

"Yeah, and what do we do when we get there?" Pizzazz asked.

"Well, Roxy suggested bribery. I don't see that we have too many other choices. How much dash do we have?" Jetta proceeded to count their money, adding, "Of course we can still get to an ATM if we need more. Then we need to think of a way to get Stormer somewhere safe. I don't know which cities require these blood tests, and which methods of entering a city are safer. We might be able to drive into some cities without having to take the tests."

"And we need to see if there's a way to beat the stupid test," Roxy said, though she had no idea how to even begin finding an answer to that.

"Yes. So does that sound like a good plan for the next few hours?" Jetta asked.

"Fine," Pizzazz mumbled. Her energy had been drained for the night.

Roxy nodded. She hated the way that Jetta was so easily taking the lead with Pizzazz having withdrawn, but she was too tired and too anxious for Stormer's sake to do anything about it. Roxy prided herself on being laid-back but this night the anxiety was feasting on her guts.

Pizzazz groaned, and kicked off her shoes as she got under the covers of the bed she'd taken. Roxy and Jetta looked at each other. "We did book two rooms," Jetta said.

"I wanna stay here with Pizzazz," Roxy said.

"Me too."

They shrugged and decided to share the bed. Jetta turned off the light.

The second she hit the pillow, Jetta knew that she wasn't going to get any sleep – and it wasn't just due to the uncomfortable prospect of sharing a bed with her old rival. The Misfits had been in trouble before, but nothing like this, like what Stormer was in the middle of now. In the past, Pizzazz's money or connections could've gotten them out of any scrape, but this time the whole playing field was so different. Messing with the government could be deadly. What if the bribe didn't work? What if they didn't bribe the right person? What if they landed in jail for attempting to secure the release of a criminal?

Jetta realized that if they couldn't get Stormer back, it would probably be the end for the band. Pizzazz would keep falling apart; Jetta easily recognized that her leader's display of anger was, as usual, really a lot of hurt and pain that she knew no other way to release. Jetta didn't think Roxy would take it too well either. During recent times, it was Stormer who was the calming influence on the band, the one who diffused the fights. Although Stormer wrote most of the song melodies, Jetta knew they could always find another writer – but finding another Stormer would be another matter.

Jetta sighed and shifted position on the bed. She felt Roxy tossing and turning, and knew that her bandmate was wide awake. Jetta herself had been in serious trouble with the band once before, when her lies about her background had been revealed. When she'd joined the group years ago, Jetta had wanted nothing more than to be accepted by Pizzazz and to let her dismal upbringing be a thing of the past. Inwardly Jetta winced at the memories from her past, her callous parents who'd never shown her a scrap of affection, the poverty they'd lived in, the teasing of the other children as they mocked her worn clothing. Pizzazz had swallowed the story she'd woven about her posh background easily. Roxy had never believed her, so Jetta used every chance she could to put down Roxy and attack her meager upbringing. When Jetta's deception had been found out, she remembered her heart sinking to the ground as the panic rose. She remembered wondering what she was going to do; despite all the arguments and Pizzazz's often overbearing personality, Jetta had not wanted to leave the band. She had money, she had enough music business know-how to form her own band. But she had not wanted to leave.

So she'd waited for Pizzazz to tell her to pack her bags, but that never happened. Even Roxy showed shocking restraint by only taunting her with it a few times. On the plane ride home, Jetta had begun to realize that she was not going to be kicked out. But things had been very awkward for her for the months that followed; her place within the group was not where it had been.

'And things will be awkward for Stormer now too, when she returns,' Jetta told herself. If we get her back.'

Jetta couldn't sleep with her thoughts still racing. At one point she heard Roxy get up and take a shower. She tried to chase away thoughts about how far the Misfits had fallen….staying in a run-down motel, sharing a room – indeed, sharing a bed. Well, I came up from the bottom once before, I can do it again,' she told herself. Jetta shifted position again but the mattress was sagging and the pillow flat. Her head hurt. She wondered what Jem and the Holograms and the Stingers were up to now. She also reminded herself to make the phone call to cancel tomorrow's gig.

Roxy returned to the bed. Jetta got up to take a shower herself, having abandoned any notion of being able to sleep this night. Pizzazz growled at them for "making a racket", and as Jetta entered the bathroom she heard Roxy tell Pizzazz to shut up.

By the time Jetta's shower was completed, the lights were on and Roxy and Pizzazz were sitting up, talking amicably. "Soon as I take my shower, let's go," Pizzazz said, hoisting herself off the bed. She sounded more in command again.

"What time is it?" Jetta asked.

"3:25 a.m.," Roxy said, glancing at the clock.

Jetta groaned.

Soon, the three women were on the streets, looking for a taxi. They were resolved to bring their bandmate home.

-----------------------

Roxy and Jetta helped me out of the cab. There's no way I could've made it down the hallway to the elevator without them half-carrying me. The ride in the warm taxi– and sitting between two human beings – had helped me thaw a bit but my feet and hands were still numb and I was just shaky and weak all over.

I don't know what possessed me to try to tell a joke, but as we waited for the elevator, that's what I did.

"Hey, we're staying at a place with an elevator! It's a step up from our last motel."

Roxy did her little snort-laugh. I heard Jetta say, "I never saw someone get so excited over a bloody lift."

Unfortunately, the room was a long way down the hall from the elevator. Once we reached the floor, it was another long, clumsy walk for Roxy, Jetta, and myself. I tried to concentrate on taking one step after the other. The hallway's carpet had random stains and was fraying apart.

Pizzazz walked ahead of us and unlocked the door to the room.

Once we got inside the room, there was a bit of an awkward, silent pause. Jetta and Roxy were still supporting me physically.

Finally, Pizzazz said to me, "Are you bleeding?" Her voice was, just as before, direct and straightforward.

The officer had hit me a few times, and at least one area where the skin had been broken was bleeding. "Yeah," I said. "You know, I think I'd really like to have a bath. Could you help me to the bathroom?"

The need to bathe and get all remnants of that man off of me was overwhelming. And I thought that warm water might help my hands and feet.

So my bandmates helped me to the bathroom. Pizzazz even drew the bath for me, after rummaging around her suitcase for some bubble bath. Jetta helped me over to sit on the counter as the tub filled, and Roxy asked, "How hot ya want it?" as she stuck her hand under the faucet. Being fussed over by these three was a new experience. Jetta said she was going to see if she had any band aids (or "plasters", as she called them) with her.

When the tub was full, they asked me if I needed any help. I responded in the negative so they gave me some privacy and left the room. I finally discarded my dirty clothes, gladly throwing them on the floor, and managed to climb into the tub.

I closed my eyes. I was still muddle-headed, sleep-deprived, and in a lot of physical pain. But the body parts that had been numb were slowly coming to life and I thought that maybe I didn't have frostbite. I began to feel warm, began to feel alive again. Despite all the physical discomforts I felt, one thought helped keep me going: _they came back for me_.

Relaxation set in, and at long last I felt a sense of peace. My head started to feel just a bit more clear. My world may've been in shambles around me, but I was feeling okay.

After a while, there was a knock on the bathroom door. "You gonna be much longer? Pizzazz wants to strategize." Funny thing about Roxy. If you just read those words on paper, you might think how rough they sounded. In fact, even if you heard her say them, you might think that. But with Roxy, often a subtle change in her tone of voice can be very telling. Even the way she knocked on the door was an indicator. I knew she was really concerned about me.

But the problem was, I didn't want to leave that tub. Being immersed in warm water was just heavenly. Every nerve in my body told me to stay put and let the water do its work. "I'm kinda enjoying this bath still. Can we wait a bit longer?" Then an idea came to mind, "You guys could come in here."

I heard Pizzazz say something muffled, and the door opened. "Okay, we'll come in here," Pizzazz said, in her best I'm-doing-you-a-favor tone. As the three entered, Pizzazz then said, "I dunno about this. What if Stormer feels like we'll be leering at her?"

We giggled at her attempt at humor. And I really didn't mind the situation. I was still covered by the water and the perky bubbles. Of course, I did notice the irony. I was naked in front of them, both literally and figuratively now.

"How are you feelin', luv?" Jetta asked. "Did you want any of those plasters?"

"Maybe when I come out," I replied. "I – I'm doing a lot better."

And then I felt that I had to say it, as much as my bandmates disliked this kind of talk and as much as it maybe was not necessary. "Hey, guys, uh….I just want to say thank you. Thanks for bringing me back."

I expected Pizzazz to make another comment about not getting mushy on her, but she didn't. Jetta said, "Think nothin' of it. We wouldn't leave you."

"Nobody leaves The Misfits," Pizzazz said plainly.

"So how'd you get out?" Roxy asked. The rest of the group seemed more at ease now with the change of subject. "We thought they were gonna keep you in a cell over night."

Another awkward moment. I took a breath. "The guard – the one who was with me before – he…he liked me. He told me if I slept with him, he'd let me out." More tension in the room; now I think I even saw some pity in my bandmates' eyes. "So I went through with it."

"Man, that must've been shitty for you, with you bein' a dyke and all," Roxy said.

I nodded. You know, after all these years of hiding, it felt kinda good (despite the awkwardness of it all) to have this fact about me out on the table. Oh, and Roxy's using the term "dyke" didn't bother me. She's just blunt like that with everything. She doesn't sit around and ruminate much about how her words will be taken; she just says (and does) what's on her mind at the time. I knew she truly didn't mean any affront, so I didn't take it as one.

"Yeah, it was pretty awful. That's where I got most of these scrapes from," I said, looking at a nasty gash on my shoulder. "But he kept his end of the bargain. As soon as he was done, he gave me a few seconds to get dressed and then he threw me out the door."

"In the middle of the night, in the freezing cold!" Pizzazz said, and she made her infamous shrieking noise. For a split second, she looked around the bathroom as if seeking something to throw. She settled for just clenching her fists.

I studied Pizzazz. The times I had dared to take a glimpse at her face since they'd come back for me – and there hadn't been many such times – I saw an enormous effort on Pizzazz's part. Holding back her temper and dealing with anger are not her strong points, but that was exactly what she was doing. She was mad. I feared her anger but I also realized that I was not the sole target of it. When she made that comment, I could tell part of her rage was about how I – a Misfit, and therefore an extension of Pizzazz herself – had been treated. Seeing me treated this way enraged her; I think it made her remember the times when she's been put down. It wasn't exactly empathy on Pizzazz's part but, again, that's not her strong suit either. It was probably as much empathy as I would get from her.

Of course, I knew by the same token that she would also see the fact that I was gay as being a bad reflection on her too. I dreaded having to deal with this in the future.

"We were thinking we'd have to bribe them to let you go," Jetta said.

"He promised that he wouldn't file the report on me," I said. "I don't know if he did or not though."

Then there was silence again for a few moments. I was glad to leave the topic of my experience with the officer and I had no wish to recount the ugly details.

"So what do we do now?" I asked.

Pizzazz looked as if she wanted to pace the small bathroom; I could see the wheels in her head begin to turn slowly. "How many dates do we have left on this tour?" she asked.

"I think three or four," Jetta said.

"It's best if we don't play them. We can't risk getting Stormer in trouble with the law again."

"Yeah, like you said, the guy might've filed the report anyway," Roxy said.

"And even if he didn't, we don't know how many cities are gonna have these stupid blood test requirements," Pizzazz added. "We might have trouble getting you in and out of cities."

I began to realize that she spoke the truth. During the last several agonizing hours, I had been focused on my own basic survival – both mental and physical. Now that I was accepting the fact that I would survive, I started to think of the long-term and realized there were minefields in my --- and the Misfits' --- future. The thought that we might not be able to tour again was almost too much to bear.

"We were talking about that earlier," Jetta said, looking at me. "We don't know which cities make you take the test, and we don't know if you can enter some cities by car – like we just did – and not have to take it. We don't know if there's a way to round the test either."

Pizzazz nodded, "And until we know that, we can't risk playing any more dates. We can make up a reason for canceling the shows. Maybe we say that I came down with a bad cold and lost my voice….whoever we make into the scapegoat, it shouldn't be Stormer since we don't want to attract any more attention to her."

I listened intently, somewhat awed by the fact that Pizzazz would offer herself as the "scapegoat" in my place.

"But how do we get back to LA?" Roxy asked.

"However we do it, it's gotta be quicker and easier than driving," Jetta said. "I'd suggest we take one of your Dad's private jets, Pizzazz….but where would they land it here? I don't know if we want to involve any of the aviation authorities."

"I think Daddy got rid of his last plane," Pizzazz said. "He might still have his helicopter though! Yes. I'll call him and see if we can use it."

"Won't the helicopter run out of fuel between here and LA?" Jetta asked.

Pizzazz shrugged. "There's gotta be somewhere it can refuel. I don't think we have any other options. I'll call Daddy."

I considered apologizing to them for the cancellation of the rest of the tour. But I didn't know. An apology in this group is perceived as weakness. (Pizzazz's apology to us, back when she returned from her Riot-obsession to rejoin the group, was a once-in-a-lifetime event). And I knew at some level that none of this was my fault – I can't help it that I have something in my blood or my DNA or whatever that identifies me as a lesbian. I decided that we'd had enough uncomfortable moments today and I wasn't going to apologize.

Pizzazz left the room, followed by Jetta. Roxy paused for a second and made eye contact with me. She looked like she wanted to say something, and I would've loved to hear it. But putting thoughts and ideas together was never her strong point, so she left the room after giving me a vague smile.

----------------------------

Pizzazz waited until much later in the morning to contact her father. She knew he was an early riser, but she had to keep in mind the two-hour time lag between LA and Chicago. When the time came, she made the phone call in private using the second, empty motel room the Misfits had booked. She hated the way her father talked to her, and she would not stand for her bandmates overhearing more of it. They'd heard enough over the years. Pizzazz also knew that she would need to do a fair amount of begging and pleading in this case. Getting Harvey to part with the money such a trip would require would not be easy given the hit the Gabor riches had taken over the last year. Pizzazz knew she could always use her own money if she couldn't get her father to acquiesce.

'Stormer had damn well better realize all I'm going through because of her! She's gonna pay,' Pizzazz thought, though that second sentiment was felt more out of habit than any real desire to inflict revenge on her keyboardist.

When Pizzazz returned to the room, she told the rest of the group that the arrangement had been made and the helicopter would pick them up in the early evening. Harvey had been unable to get his trustiest pilot any earlier than that. Jetta also informed the group that she had cancelled their gigs.

At that point, the need for sleep finally took over. No one had gotten any quality sleep the night before, so the band gladly took the chance to catch up on their slumber.

Several hours later, Jetta and Roxy left the motel in search of food. They agreed to look for some take-out to bring back to the group since no one wanted Stormer to leave the motel, out of caution. "We'll keep a low profile," Jetta promised, as they left.

Before long, the two returned with bags of Chinese take-out and American fast food. Half the group liked Chinese, but the other half wasn't crazy about it. The four ate ravenously.

"Hey Pizzazz," Roxy said, as she chewed, "we passed a bar on the way back here. About two blocks away." She wiped her greasy fingers on a wad of napkins, delighting in every bite of the sweet and sour pork.

"The blokes in there looked okay," Jetta said, shrugging.

No one was surprised that a bar would be populated during the early afternoon. With so many people unemployed, hanging out at bars and drinking cheap beer were quite popular activities. Roxy had recognized that Pizzazz really needed some , so she'd peeked inside the bar. Though, as Jetta had pointed out, none of the males they'd glimpsed looked particularly tantalizing, they also knew that Pizzazz wasn't always the most discriminating in this area of her life.

"Hmmmm….I'll have to check it out," Pizzazz said. The prospect of a conquest always did a good job of momentarily chasing away Pizzazz's persistent anger and depression. She devoured her burger more quickly.

When she was finished eating, Pizzazz touched up her hair and make-up, and asked, "Who's comin' with me?" She then added, playfully, "Stormer?"

The group, including Stormer, laughed.

Pizzazz hoped that Roxy and Jetta would decline. Her omnipresent insecurity preferred no competition over the males, and that insecurity mocked her, telling her that her bandmates were younger and prettier. F--- that; I'm the one with the charisma and the daring,' she told herself. Approaching guys was never difficult for Pizzazz.

"I think I'll pass," Jetta said. She had been less than impressed with what she'd seen inside the bar.

"I'll go with you – why not?" Roxy said, and she tried to not notice the disappointed look on Pizzazz's face.

Not long afterwards, Pizzazz and Roxy were in the bar. Men outnumbered women on this afternoon, and pretty soon the duo were inundated with offers to buy drinks for them. Roxy smiled as she saw, out of the corner of her eye, Pizzazz in her element, the band's troubles momentarily forgotten.

--------------------------

While waiting for the helicopter, I was wondering how things in the band would change. The Misfits had undergone so much change in our internal dynamics, and most of the recent changes had been positive. Would this throw a wrench in the works? My bandmates seemed okay now, all things considered, but over time would they start to show discomfort around me?

I stifled a giggle as I thought back to one uproarious night a few months ago. I hoped it would not be our last such night. After another late recording session, we had returned to the mansion too buzzed to go to bed. So we broke out the margaritas and ended up playing cards. After a few uninspired rounds of Crazy Eights, Roxy said, slurring her speech, "Let's play strip poker!"

I had been too tipsy to get worried, and I thought for sure Pizzazz would nix the idea, but she said words to the effect of, "Sure!" Before I knew it, Roxy was dealing out cards, and Pizzazz was saying, "So whoever loses the round takes off one item of clothing."

After the first few rounds, when I was bereft of socks, Jetta missing a jacket, and Pizzazz without a belt, Jetta asked, "How far does this go?"

"As far as we want it to," Pizzazz replied.

We were all honestly too drunk to care. As soon as strip poker had been selected, I'd redoubled my efforts to down as much margarita as possible.

Later, when Roxy was down to her bra and panties, and she lost yet another round, Jetta cackled, "Here we go!"

Roxy just made a face and removed her hairclip.

"That doesn't count!" Pizzazz cried.

Roxy flipped her the finger.

"Hey, Roxy," I began, "if your hairclip counts as clothing, then next round I lose, can I just take off my mascara?"

Jetta reached over towards a nearby supply cabinet and took out a stack of post-it notes. She proceeded to place a few of them on her face and over her bra. "'ere," she said. "If your hairclip is clothes, then so are these sticky notes."

We collapsed in fits of laughter. The game continued. When Pizzazz was down to bra and panties, she resorted to cheating. She told us that she had a flush, and only Jetta thought to double check Pizzazz's hand. "You cheater!" she exclaimed. Pizzazz had a 3, 4, 6, 7 and 8. "Take that bra off, Zazz!" a very drunk Roxy commanded.

Jetta later tried to cheat as well by taking three cards when she only put down two. Roxy, drunk as she was, caught her in a second and put a stop to that.

When I had just been forced to remove my bra, I jokingly held up two cards, trying to strategically place them over my chest. The others laughed. I got more laughs when I tried to lean down so only my head and shoulder could be seen above the table.

The night was completed just perfectly when Harvey Gabor returned from a business trip on a red eye flight. Talking on his phone, probably with some businessman in Europe, he looked up at the four naked women sitting around the table and muttered, "Good night, ladies," and kept on going. If he'd noticed our condition, he hadn't said a word. As soon as he was out of earshot, we fell over laughing.

---------------------------

That evening, the Misfits were picked up by Harvey Gabor's longtime pilot. The helicopter touched down briefly on the roof of the motel, the four women and their luggage squeezed inside, and the journey back to Los Angeles began.

"Heard you ran into some trouble, girls," the pilot said, as they entered the helicopter.

"Just get us home, Ted," Pizzazz said.

"What did you tell your father?" Jetta whispered once they were in the air. The background noise was louder and Ted could not overhear her words.

"I just said we were in big trouble," Pizzazz whispered back.

"I thought he said that wasn't going to come to our rescue anymore."

Pizzazz rolled her eyes. "Let's just say I had the begging and pleading session of my life," she replied, as much as she loathed admitting what had happened. She stole a quick glance in Stormer's direction. The helicopter was noisy and Stormer couldn't have heard their exchange, but Pizzazz once again thought that Stormer better know what she had gone through on her behalf. Of course, being humbled in front of Jem and the Holograms a few years ago, when she asked Stormer to return to the Misfits, ranked right down there as well. Pizzazz couldn't stand having to grovel. Stormer can't ever say that I don't give a shit about her,' Pizzazz angrily thought.

Roxy watched Pizzazz and Jetta whisper at each other and felt a pang of jealousy. She quickly brushed aside the ugly memories of how she felt when Jetta had first joined the band and Roxy had found her position in the group usurped. She reminded herself that it was over now, she was once again tight with Pizzazz. Their leader seemed to like Roxy and Jetta about equally now, which was the best Roxy felt she could hope for.

After some time, the pilot landed the helicopter so they could refuel. He had made an arrangement with a small airport. As Ted went inside the airport to talk to the management, the Misfits took the opportunity to get outside of the small chopper and stretch.

"Where are we at?" Roxy asked. She extended her arms in front of her, clasped her hands together and pulled so as to give her back a good, solid stretch.

"Middle of nowhere," Pizzazz answered. "Nebraska or Kansas or some other godawful place. I think my leg's fallen asleep."

Stormer wrapped her scarf around her more tightly. The weather was frosty with a very sharp wind, bringing back memories of the previous, endless night. She was glad for her warm mittens.

Ted exited the building and approached the band. Pizzazz took one look at his face and asked, "What is it?"

"There's going to be a delay," Ted said. He was bracing himself for one of "Phyllis's" tantrums, though having been acquainted with her since she was a child, he was somewhat used to them. He silently thanked his lucky stars that his own daughter was so mild-mannered. "They don't have enough of the fuel that we need."

"I thought you made all the arrangements with them!"

"I did. But I got incorrect information from them. They thought they had it, now they're saying they don't. We're going to have to wait here for a few hours until they can service us."

"Isn't there somewhere else we can go?" Roxy asked, sighing.

"Unfortunately, no. There's not another operating airport close enough that we could safely make it there." He shook his head. "Too bad so many of them have closed." He added, "There's a waiting room inside. I'm going to talk to the manager again."

The Misfits soon found themselves sitting in a small room, with an empty vending machine and several utilitarian chairs for company. Half of the lights were out and one dying light bulb flickered. The floor badly needed to be swept. A few small windows looked out at an airfield which was abandoned, save for one broken-down plane plus the Gabor helicopter.

"The loo is very picturesque," Jetta said, returning from the bathroom to the waiting area. "And they seem to be out of both soap and paper towels," she said, as she shook out her wet hands.

"Great," Roxy muttered.

Pizzazz stood up from her chair, let out a trademark scream of disgust, and sent the nearest object (a chair) hurling across the small room. Her frustration was unleashed. "I can't take this!" she yelled. "F--- all of this!"

"Pizzazz," Stormer began gently, approaching the singer. "It's okay."

"It's not f---ing okay! Two years ago we took a private jet to our concerts! We played at stadiums!" As suddenly as it started, Pizzazz's tantrum seemed to lose steam. The energy to smash more items or scream louder was evaporating. "Now look at us," she said, no longer yelling though her voice contained the omnipresent anger." We're stuck in a pit like this. We don't have a tour anymore. Stormer almost gets thrown in jail. We don't have anything."

Pizzazz wasn't one to cry, but her voice sounded only a few octaves away from doing so. Feeling weak, she sank down onto one of the chairs.

"Oh, that ain't true," Roxy said, getting up to sit next to Pizzazz. She put her hand on her shoulder. "We got our music." She then added, "Okay, that sounds corny but it's true."

"We're all together," Jetta said, sitting on Pizzazz's other side. "All this crap will pass, and we'll be ready when it does!" she said, passionately.

Stormer sat on the floor in front of Pizzazz. "They're right, Pizzazz," she said. Her voice was quiet; she had learned that on occasion she could get Pizzazz to listen to her by speaking very softly. "I know you're frustrated. I think we all are. We just need to see this as a temporary situation. Things aren't working out the way we want them to, but it's just temporary."

"We don't know that things are ever gonna get back to the way they were," Pizzazz rasped.

"Well, then if they don't, we'll adapt," Jetta said. "We will figure out what to do. We're a group of survivors – remember?"

"'Sides, things always work out in the end, one way or another," Roxy said.

Pizzazz nodded, her eyes downcast.

One of the mechanics walked into the room. "Is everything okay in here?" he asked. Apparently he had not been warned about what to expect with the Misfits around.

"Everything's just hunky dory," Jetta smiled.

When he left, Jetta looked back at the rest of the group. Pizzazz had mentioned Stormer's run-in with the law, and she thought this might be a good time to bring up something that she had been pondering. "Hey, Stormer," she began, her voice near a whisper, given that she didn't know when another of the airport's workers might wander in. "Speaking of you almost going to jail, I was wondering something -- were you ever….going to tell us?"

"Tell you what?" Stormer asked. "Oh – uh, the gay thing, you mean?"

Jetta nodded. Meanwhile, Roxy was glad that Jetta had brought it up. She wanted to know more as well, but hadn't been able to figure out when or how to arrive at the topic. Delicately broaching a subject was not Roxy's strong point.

"Well, um, I wasn't trying to keep anything a secret on you guys," Stormer began. Jetta noted that Stormer's cheeks had turned pink. "It's just that….I don't know, I guess I didn't want to deal with it. I kept thinking maybe I'd outgrow it or something."

"So, like, how long have you known?" Roxy asked.

Pizzazz looked down at Stormer, not knowing whether to be upset that she herself was no longer the focus of attention or relieved that the others might forget how truly upset and close to tears she'd been. She decided that the latter was better and listened to Stormer.

"A few years, I guess. It kinda like dawned on me over time." As uncomfortable as she felt now, Stormer also realized that this was a discussion they probably had to have sooner or later. Now was as good a time as any. "You know, I went out with guys but then I'd wonder why I didn't feel anything."

"You must be much sneakier than I thought," Jetta began with a smile. "What with all of us living most of the time in the mansion and yet you managed to get out and date women, and we never noticed."

"Well, I…." Stormer began, "I haven't really gone out with any women yet."

"Really? At all??" Roxy asked, leaning forward.

Stormer looked at her friend and wondered. She knew that Roxy cared for her a great deal – though she didn't show it in a conventional way – but right now Roxy looked like a teenager looking for a juicy bit of gossip. She told herself that maybe that wasn't the case, and maybe Roxy was just surprised at Stormer's revelation.

"Yes, really," Stormer said, smiling. "Like I said, I was just kinda biding my time and hoping this was a phase I was going through or something. I never acted on it. I wouldn't know what to do." Stormer could tell that her bandmates were surprised by this bit of news.

"Man, you must be horny a lot then!" Roxy exclaimed. The group laughed.

Ted walked in, smiling. "Good news, ladies. We'll be ready to go in just over an hour."

"You call that good news, Ted?!" Pizzazz snapped back at him. Roxy stifled a grin because she could tell Pizzazz wasn't really upset. She almost sensed that Pizzazz was reacting this way out of habit. "We shouldn't be sitting in this dump in the first place!"

"Sorry, Miss Gabor. You're right," Ted said, as he swiftly exited the room.

Pizzazz smiled. She silently decided that now she didn't mind this whole Stormer being a lesbian bit. Pizzazz liked for men to find her attractive. She flattered herself with visions of Stormer also falling for Pizzazz's magnetic charms. Not that Pizzazz would remotely want to have any romantic contact with another female. But Pizzazz liked having her beauty and charm noticed. She idly wondered whether part of the reason she'd been so upset upon learning Stormer's secret was because she couldn't understand the idea of anyone who found women attractive not being enthralled with Pizzazz herself.

The Misfits soon found themselves back at the Gabor mansion.

----------------------------

TO BE CONTINUED

Feedback is always appreciated. Please leave a review or send me an email.


	4. Chapter 4

**Farewell to Life the Way We Knew It**

By

**CHAPTER FOUR**

_"You don't **become** a Misfit. You're either born a Misfit or you're not."_

_-- Pizzazz, "Father's Day"_

-------------------

When we returned, Roxy started treating me differently.

I first noticed it the day after our arrival. Miraculously, Roxy was up early enough for breakfast. I was standing between Roxy and the pantry, waiting for the oatmeal to finish, and she literally shoved me out of the way to get to the pantry! I was too shocked to say anything. Then a second or two later, Pizzazz bounded into the kitchen, complaining loudly about the fact that we had to make our own breakfast. (The hours of the servants were cut again). I reminded myself that Roxy was not a morning person, and that politeness was not her natural way, and tried to think nothing more of the incident.

Then later that day, the four of us went to see a movie. As Pizzazz, Jetta, and I took our seats in the theater, Roxy went to get popcorn. We were sitting in this order: me, then Pizzazz, then Jetta. There were empty seats on my other side and on Jetta's other side, and I was closest to the aisle. Roxy, with popcorn bags and sodas in hand, climbed over me, Pizzazz, and Jetta so that she could sit next to Jetta rather than to me! That raised a few eyebrows – not just my own – but no one said anything. I was so surprised and hurt that I hardly paid any attention to the movie.

The rest of the day, Roxy was just a bitch to me. If I said anything, she ignored or scoffed at it, or cut me off. I tried to tell myself that Roxy was just having a bad day, but she was treating Pizzazz and Jetta the same as always. And so even I didn't buy it. Roxy, in general, could be rude, abrasive, and physically confrontational – but rarely was she like that with me, and especially not during the last few years.

And then the day ended perfectly when I was heading back to my room for the night. Roxy went out of her way to trip me as I was walking down the hall. I nearly fell flat on my face. I heard Roxy laughing as I hurried back to my room.

I closed the door, changed into my pajamas, and felt a lump in my throat. My worst nightmare was coming true. My heart felt like it was being squeezed out like a sponge. Maybe Roxy was nice to me back in Chicago and on our way home because it hadn't sunk in yet. Now that she'd had more time to think about it, maybe she was disgusted with it, with the thought that I was gay. I tried to choke down the shame as I wiped my eyes with tissue. I couldn't even call Craig to get some comfort; how could I tell him what was bothering me? I felt myself surrounded by a circle of shame and fear, and I lay on the bed trembling.

-----------------------

I didn't sleep much that night at all, but when I did wake, I noticed that there was a note that had been slipped under my door. For an unreasonable second, my heart leapt – could Roxy have written an apology or an explanation? But then logic set in and I remembered that, of course, Roxy avoided having to write anything, and I also recalled that the butler often communicated with us via notes under our doors, since he never knew what time in the morning we'd be up and he found this method of communication to be least intrusive.

Sure enough, it was a note from the butler. He wrote:

_Good morning, Miss Phillips,_

_There are two messages for you. First, Miss Gabor requests your presence in her room as soon as possible._

_Secondly, your brother called this morning. He requests that you return his phone call._

I was elated that Craig had called! I could hardly wait to get in touch with him. But I had to also look at the first part of the note. I smirked at the words "as soon as possible". Pizzazz was so impatient that this seemed uncharacteristic; why wasn't she banging down my door if she wanted me there quickly? Whatever she wanted, it couldn't have been too urgent, but I was real curious anyway

As I put on my robe, I once again replayed my interactions with Roxy during the previous day. Problems always seem worse at night and maybe I overreacted. Maybe there was something else bugging Roxy; maybe it had nothing to do with me being a lesbian. I knew I'd have to talk to her about this, as hard as it would be. I sensed that I was in for a lot of hard and uncomfortable moments in my near future.

I found Pizzazz in her room. She was sitting on the bed, painting her toenails, with a towel under her foot. "I have to paint my own nails now, since we don't have the spa here anymore!" she exclaimed. Believe it or not, the mansion did used to have its own spa.

"I've always found it really hard to paint my own toenails," I said.

"It is!" she said, her eyes still on her foot. The polish was bright purple and one of her toe dividers slipped out.

"Do you want help?"

"Actually, the reason I wanted to talk to you was to ask if you'd do my hair today. I'm going to see some guy Daddy recommended I talk to. He has connections at that Morality Office." She looked up from her foot and at me. "We gotta see whether that officer in Chicago ever did file the report on you."

I nodded. My heart sank to the ground. I knew that Pizzazz was right. (And actually, I would later find out that the idea to check this out had been Jetta's; she had made the suggestion to Pizzazz). Finding out whether I had a record was a sensible precaution, but I was terrified at what we might find. Even more, I was horrified at the idea that I was considered one step away from being a criminal. The thought made me sick. Since that ghastly evening in Chicago, I had tried to put those types of thoughts out of my mind.

"Do you think we can trust this guy?"

"Daddy said he's cool. Of course he doesn't know why I want to talk to him. But money smoothes everything over, and we still have enough of it."

"Should I come with?"

"I don't think so. I can handle it alone."

"Oh. Well…thanks," I said. I hoped Pizzazz would realize how much I did appreciate this.

"Here," she said, gesturing at me. She had finished one foot and, once I sat before her, she handed me the bottle of polish and stuck her other foot out in my direction. I guessed I would get a chance to show my appreciation by tending to her majesty.

Actually, I didn't mind at all. It was nice to have some physical contact with her, limited as it was. No, don't get me wrong; I'm not at all talking about anything sexual here. I'm referring to the fact that mammals tend to need and like to be touched. I thought about how rarely any of us Misfits received that. I imagined that my bandmates had their need for physical contact met through the guys they "spent the evening with", but that was probably it. Of course none of us grew up being given much in the way of affection, but even still I think we all had a need for it. I sure did. I mused that we needed another group hug, like the one we had when Pizzazz returned to the band after leaving us for Riot. Inwardly I sighed – none of this stuff would ever be easy for us.

As I painted her toenails, and later fixed her hair the way she liked it, I had to feel at least a smidgeon of relief over one thing. Roxy might have been freaking out over the idea of me being a lesbian, but Pizzazz sure didn't seem to mind my touching her, if the nail painting and hair styling were any indication.

----------------------

Craig Phillips had just gotten off the phone with Aja Leith when his phone rang again. The crackling noises on the other end indicated another long-distance call.

"Craig, it's Mary," the voice on the other end said.

"How is my favorite sister?" Craig asked affectionately.

"I'm doing well. How are you?"

"Just great! Mary, I have some good news. I've decided to come back to LA!"

"Oh wow! Really?"

Craig was a bit surprised. He had expected to hear more elation in his sister's voice. She sounded happy but he knew her too well and would not describe what he heard as the jubilation he had expected.

"Yeah. I'm just not having any luck with the music scene here since the Bluebloods split up," he explained. "And the scene isn't as good as it was five years ago anyway – a lot of the bands have broken up, and if you don't have a major label deal, you can forget about getting any airplay."

He silently added that, conversely, you could also forget about getting a major label deal if you didn't get any airplay. Too many of the smaller clubs that would showcase underground bands had closed as well, and most of the smaller labels were defunct too.

"You know, a lot of that's going on here too," Stormer said somberly.

Again, Craig was surprised at his sister's words and tone. "Yeah, I know times are rough all over, but that's not the main reason I'm coming back. Aja and I have been talking. We've finally decided that we should give our relationship a real go, too."

Craig and Aja had been maintaining a long-distance relationship ever since they had reunited in England a few years ago. Neither was finding it simple or satisfactory. They had tried different approaches – taking vacations together, allowing each to see other people, talking on the phone most days. Lately they had been realizing that what they had between them was serious and they should make an attempt to focus on it and see where it leads.

"That's great. I hope it'll work."

"I'm also glad that I'll get to be closer to my little sister, too."

"Awww, thanks, Craig. Do you want to live at the house?"

Craig and Stormer had inherited their parents' modest house. It wasn't very spacious but it was in a scenic part of town. Stormer maintained the residence though she spent most nights of the week at the Gabor mansion. Although the Phillips' house was not used too often, there was no way that Stormer would have sold it, given the precious memories of their parents that were contained within.

"I'd love to. After all, I don't know how much time it'll take before I get a gig in LA. You still spend some time there too, right?"

"Yes, though I'm usually at Pizzazz's. But I'll get your room all ready. I just need to move a few boxes and things out of there."

There was a pause for a second or two. Then Craig said, "Mary, I wanted to say how glad I am that you and….the Misfits called a truce with Jem and the Holograms. If you hadn't, I don't know if Aja and I would have a chance of making it work between us."

"I'm glad about the truce too, but don't get the wrong idea, Craig. We're not exactly best friends with that band. It's more like we stopped attacking them."

"I know. But it'll still make things easier for us."

"Well, I hope it works out with you and Aja. So, when are you coming?"

"I haven't bought the ticket yet but I'm going to see how soon I can get one. My lease is up next month and I don't have too many loose ends to tie up here. If I'm lucky, I can be back in a few weeks."

"That's great!"

"So….how are things with you? What's going on?" he asked, trying to see if he could peel a few layers of the onion and find why Mary seemed even more reserved than usual. "Weren't you on a tour recently?"

"Yeah, we just finished it up. It….it went well."

The hesitation did not go unnoticed and Craig detected an unmistakable awkwardness in his sister's voice.

"It doesn't sound like it was so well. What happened? Did your lovely bandmates threaten to kick you out again?"

"No, no – nothing like that at all! Things are really good between us. We're going to work on writing some more songs now."

"Well, if you're happy there, then that's what's important."

Craig said the words without much conviction. Though it was not his goal, he hoped that now that he would be living in Los Angeles again, he could convince his sister to leave that band of rejects and either strike out on her own or team up with the Holograms. Despite her best attempts, nothing Stormer had ever said convinced Craig in the least that Pizzazz, Roxy, and Jetta deserved her talent.

----------------------

Pizzazz reached the massive office complex that housed the man she had an appointment with, Terry Winters. Given the warm LA sun outside, and the expansive building with the marble floors and sparkling sculptures, Pizzazz could almost forget recent memories of dingy motel rooms in freezing cities. However, the reason for her meeting with Terry precluded any notions of forgetting the occurrences over the past few days.

Walking towards the elevator, Pizzazz heard a familiar voice. "Pizzazz. How are you today?"

The wind was momentarily knocked out of her system as she turned and looked at Riot. The tall, blond man was as stunning as ever. Totally taken by surprise, Pizzazz felt her mouth go dry and any sense of arrogance and pride flew out the window. She needed every ounce of control to fight off her attraction to this manipulative and enthralling man.

"I'm fine. Just fine. H-how are you?" she managed.

"I'm doing well," Riot answered. His voice was as smooth as always. "I'm surprised to see you here, Pizzazz. I thought the Misfits wouldn't be back in town until Thursday at the earliest."

"Oh! Well, we…uh, we came back a bit early. How are the Stingers doing?" she asked, desperately groping for a chance to change the topic.

"Very well. The next album's being remixed right now." Riot's eyes drilled into Pizzazz. "Who are you here to see?"

"Oh, some guy…." Pizzazz reached for the business card in her pocket and glanced at it, glad for the chance to break eye contact with Riot. "Terry Winters is his name. We, uh, have an appointment." Pizzazz tried to stop the plummeting of her stomach. She detested the fact that this one person had the power to turn her insides into fettuccini. "What about you?"

By then, casual onlookers in the lobby were beginning to realize that two celebrities were in their midst. A small group began to approach Riot and Pizzazz.

"Riot! Oh, can I have my picture taken with you?"

"May I have an autograph, Pizzazz?"

"Please? I can't believe I'm standing before two of my favorite singers of all time!"

Pizzazz's instinct was to swat at the fans like flies, but this time she was relieved at the distraction. And, of course, Stormer was always gently reminding her to be more gracious to the fans, advice which Pizzazz had been taking recently. 'Though she still owes me for the rest of her existence!' Pizzazz thought, as she signed autographs. 'Manicures, pedicures, massages, and hair stylings on demand. Especially now since we don't have the spa anymore.'

Out of the corner of her eye, Pizzazz noticed something. Riot had set some papers down on top of a garbage can so that he could sign autographs and pose for pictures. Pizzazz, who was less besieged by fans than the more-popular Riot, stepped over to the papers and took a look. They appeared to be naturalization papers for an Ingrid Kruger – better known as Minx. 'Why would she want to become a citizen?' Pizzazz wondered. She's always bashing Americans.' She looked away before Riot could notice her investigating.

Eager for the chance to get away, as soon as Pizzazz had given autographs and pictures to everyone who requested one, she slipped away. Riot was still mobbed by the group.

Later, Pizzazz found herself sitting in Terry Winters' office. This man owed her father a few favors (just as Pizzazz knew she herself was further in debt to her father than ever before) and proved himself kind and courteous.

"Let's see…." he said, as he punched up files on his computer. Pizzazz could see only the back of his computer screen. "What did you say their names were again?"

"Sheila Burns, Roxanne Pelligrini, and Mary Phillips."

"How do you spell Pelligrini?"

"Damned if I know," Pizzazz muttered impatiently. "I hate that name! I think it's…." she spelled the name out.

"Okay, here we go," Terry said. "I'm showing records for all four of you at the Morality Station in Chicago. Just a few days ago. Hmmm….." he said, reading through the reports. "Looks like you all went through the detailed background checks – standard procedures for getting into a lot of cities now. I'm showing that you all were allowed entry."

"Good," Pizzazz said. She was surprised to find herself sitting on the edge of her seat. She forced herself to scoot back and sit up straight.

"Hmmm, this is weird," he said, his eyes still on the screen. "The record says that Mary Phillips had an 'inconclusive' blood test result. Not sure what that means. This is a kind of strange report." He sighed, "Well, it doesn't show any conviction and it looks like she was allowed entrance. So whatever they mean by an 'inconclusive' test result is open to interpretation."

Pizzazz noticed that her heart rate was slightly accelerated and her hands damp. She absolutely hated the fact that she was nervous, and she knew it was not solely due to her run-in with Riot.

"So what's up with this blood test stuff? Do we have to take one every time we want into a different city?" Pizzazz asked.

Terry sighed. "The way this is being handled is a mess. The latest word is that it's left up to each state and how they want to handle it. Some states have decided that it's required to enter all of their major metropolitan areas. Other states are just holding back and waiting." He continued, "Some cities only require the test if you're entering via train but more and more are setting up checkpoints on the major highways so that they can stop all cars."

"How do I find out where it's required and where it's not?"

Terry looked up from his computer screen. "My, you're asking a lot of questions. What's going on? Your friend with the 'inconclusive' test….she's not a drug user, is she?"

"F--- no!" Pizzazz said, shifting into her intimidation mode. "I'm asking because I don't want to ever have to wait in line for a f---ing hour again and then get my finger pricked!" Inwardly, Pizzazz cursed Stormer again, cursed her for the fact that she cared about her and for the fear of loss that welled up inside.

"Of course. Well, you can call the Morality Office of each city and ask. But you might want to use a pay phone – if you can find one – and disguise your voice. I'm not kidding. You poke around in things too much these days and it will raise eyebrows."

"But I passed the stupid test! Do I have to take it every time I wanna get into one of these cities?"

Terry shrugged. "It varies, Miss Gabor, from state to state. Some will accept a test previously passed. Most are accepting test results that are a year or less old."

"So what about Stormer and her 'inconclusive' test?" Pizzazz asked, making her voice sound casual.

"I don't know. If I worked at one of the checkpoints, this would probably raise a red flag for me." He paused, and then said, "I can't say for sure, but if I had to place a bet I think they'd make her take the test again."

Pizzazz left Terry with a stack of money and words to the effect of, 'I trust you won't share our conversation with the world.'

'Damn that officer in Chicago!' Pizzazz thought, as she walked to her car. I oughtta…..' her line of thought trailed off. What could she do? Hiring another Zipper wasn't as easy at it once was. Driving home, Pizzazz felt an unmistakable sense of dread. She also had the urge to get with the rest of the group and start making mischief, but they had to be careful now. They couldn't have the kind of unbridled fun anymore, not unless they wanted to risk another arrest.

------------------------

I waited for Pizzazz to return, to find out what my fate might be. During the day, something else happened between me and Roxy. I don't even remember what it was – maybe another shove or another bitchy comment. But when it happened, I forgot all about fear and just let my pain take over. I grabbed her and shoved her into the nearest empty room. She was pretty shocked.

"Alright, Roxy – what the hell is going on?!" I demanded. "I can't believe you're treating me this way! Me, who never once looked down on you for being illiterate, who never cared where you came from, how bad your background was….." and then I got choked up and couldn't say anything more.

She looked like she'd recovered her composure. "Yeah, well if you're such a great friend, how come you never told me?"

"What?!" I asked, not sure where she was coming from.

Roxy shrugged. "I dunno. I thought we were friends but now it turns out that you've been keeping this big secret from me for – what did you say it was? – ' a few years'?"

"Is that what this is about? Are you mad about me not telling you or are you mad at me for being gay?" That last word gets less difficult each time I say it.

She threw her hands up, exasperated. "I don't give a shit about you bein' a dyke! But I'm f---in' pissed that you never told me!"

I was actually a bit giddy with relief, but I tried to contain it so I could help Roxy understand. "Look, cut me some slack, Roxy. I told you that I…it's not an easy thing for me to talk about. I mean, my God, the last few days have been mortifying for me! What would you've wanted me to do? March into your room one day on tour and say, 'Hey guess what? I think I'm a big lesbo!'"

I really hadn't intended to be humorous but Roxy and I practically fell down laughing. Roxy was holding onto her sides as she laughed and I nearly had tears welling up.

"Well, you couldda," she said, when our giggling died down. She was still smiling.

"I know. Look, Roxy, I wish I had told you but like I said….it's just not something I'm all that comfortable with. It's really hard to talk about."

"It never wouldda mattered to me. I mean, shit I'm not exactly a saint either."

I smiled, elated that things were back to normal between Roxy and me. "Tell you what. I'll apologize for never telling you, if you're sorry for being a jerk to me the last day."

She only took a second or two to think about it. "Okay. Deal."

-------------------------

Riot made a few phone calls. His connections were numerous and he had adapted, chameleon-like, to the societal changes. He inquired as to why the Misfits' last few gigs had been cancelled.

Pizzazz certainly did not seem to have "a bad cold" when I saw her,' he observed silently.

He decided to also pay a visit to this Terry Winters.

-------------------

Pizzazz returned to the mansion. She found Jetta intently playing a video game by herself.

"Let's assemble the troops," Pizzazz said.

Jetta frowned as she looked at Pizzazz, allowing her Pac-Man to flounder. "I can tell by the look on your face that you don't have good news."

Pizzazz nodded grimly. Moments later, she was sitting around a table with all three of the other Misfits. Stormer closed the door on the way into the room, to ensure that none of the servants could overhear.

Pizzazz recounted her conversation with Terry. Her bandmates listened patiently.

"That bloody bastard," Jetta muttered when Pizzazz had finished, referring to the officer in Chicago.

Stormer looked ill. "I can't believe it. After all I went through….how hard would it have been for him to say that I passed instead of saying that the test was inconclusive!"

"So what do we do now?" Roxy asked. "We sure can't tour!"

"That may be true," Jetta said. "But think of it this way. We were pretty much done with our tour anyway. We're not going to go on another one until we cut another album. Maybe by the time we finish writing and recording it, all of this stupid stuff will be finished."

"Yeah!" Pizzazz said. "It takes a while to make an album. So what if we can't leave LA? We can write and record the best damn album ever!"

"I hope you're right, Jetta," Stormer said. "I hope all of this will just blow over some day soon."

"It's gotta," Roxy said. "Maybe a few years from now, no one will remember what a Morality Office was."

Stormer looked down at her hands which rested on the table. She knew that she would never forget.

"But what about staying in the public's eye?" Jetta wondered. "We don't have Eric to promote us anymore – not that he was good for much anyway. We don't want the public to forget about us."

"Maybe we can get on Lin-Z's show. It's still on. Some things never change," Roxy said.

"I dunno guys," Stormer said. "I think the last time we were on was our final chance and she kicked us off again."

"It's her loss if she doesn't want us," Pizzazz said dismissively. "But there are a ton of things we can do to promote ourselves – TV appearances, magazines. We just gotta get busy. Hell, maybe we can even throw a benefit concert – it's great publicity!"

"Though it's awfully pricey," Jetta observed.

"Okay, Misfits," Pizzazz commanded, "starting tomorrow, we roll up our sleeves. We'll get busy promoting ourselves and start working on the next album."

Roxy shrugged, "Stormer's our main song writer anyway. Since she's gotta lay low for a while, maybe she can work on the music and the rest of us could do interviews and stuff." Roxy looked in Stormer's direction as she spoke and tried to give a reassuring smile.

The group seemed to like the plan. Jetta sensed that the "meeting" was drawing to a close, but there was one item of business that she felt compelled to bring up, as uncomfortable as it made her. "You know, I hate to bring this up," she began, "but I think it's something we need to think about. Since it's on file that Stormer's blood test was 'inconclusive'….do we need to worry about people finding out?" She then gave a sympathetic look at Stormer. "Don't want to alarm you, luv, but I think it's something that we need to consider. It could hurt our career."

"I know," Stormer said quietly. Her sense of unease had returned in full force. Fear of a very uncertain future loomed in front of her.

"You got a point," Pizzazz said. She then turned to Stormer and asked a question that had not been raised before. "Does anyone else know? Besides us, and that creep in Chicago?"

"Like your brother," Roxy said. "Does he know?"

Stormer shook her head. "I haven't told him. I don't know whether he suspects or not, but I think he doesn't." She swallowed then, and decided to answer Pizzazz's question truthfully. She didn't want to have to reveal this, but the thought had been buzzing around her for the past few days.

"There is one person I told," Stormer began. "Kimber Benton."

"Kimber?!" Roxy echoed. Once again, her emotions took off. "What the hell, Stormer?? You just told me that you kept it a secret because it's so hard to talk about and you didn't want to tell anyone!"

Stormer responded with the same vigor as Roxy. "That was different! It was totally different. Look, we---" Stormer sputtered, searching for the right words. "I know this sounds silly, but when Kimber and I made our album together, we got really close really fast. It was an intense friendship that lasted for a short amount of time. She knew I was hiding something from her, and she wouldn't leave me alone till I told her! Kimber wouldn't let it drop. She can be really, really persistent. So I told her." While trying to be as persuasive as possible, Stormer watched Roxy and knew that her friend was hurt again and justifiably so. It did seem as though Stormer had just contradicted what she had told Roxy only hours ago.

Stormer began again, her voice soft this time, "Roxy – everyone – I'm sorry that I told a Hologram instead of telling you. But Kimber wouldn't let me keep quiet; she kept insisting on wanting to know what was bothering me." Then Stormer silently added, Unlike the three of you. Who didn't seem to give a damn when I was suffering, who didn't even notice let alone care enough to ask me what was wrong.'

Roxy crossed her arms and remained quiet now. She didn't want to respond with more anger at Stormer – she could tell that none of this was easy for her friend – but was loathe to admit how hurt she really was. Roxy tended to convert feelings of hurt into anger, and she was struggling to keep a lid on her ire.

Pizzazz wasn't too thrilled either. To think that Stormer confided in one of the Holo-twerps rather than in her own band! And Kimber was probably the worst one of them all, after Jem. Yet even Pizzazz was not unaware of the concept that the Misfits had not exactly created an atmosphere where Stormer could have confided in them either.

Jetta was thinking over the ramifications of Stormer's action. "So you told Kimber," she began. "I wonder if Kimber kept it to herself. Knowing the way Jem and the Holograms are, I bet she told them all"

Stormer had to stifle a gasp. With embarrassment, she realized that she had not considered that possibility. "She promised not to tell anyone," she managed.

"Yeah, but you know how they are," Pizzazz said, realizing the truth of Jetta's words. "I think we gotta assume that they all know."

A sense of dread began to envelop the room. Jem and the Holograms weren't vengeful; they never would initiate an attack on the Misfits. But times were different, and the fact remained that Kimber and her bandmates were aware of a piece of information that could spell doom for the Misfits. The Misfits now realized this and began to wonder what might happen.

"We're in deep shit," Roxy breathed. "Deep, deep shit." Her sense of fear began to overtake the anger she felt.

"Well," Stormer began, grasping for straws, "maybe if they bring it up, I just say something like I was confused. Or that I've changed. Or – " Stormer stopped herself. "But there's that inconclusive blood test on file."

"And it's not just that," Jetta said. "Nowadays, it's bad enough to just be suspected of something."

"Yeah, and the authorities can always order you to take another test!" Pizzazz said.

"Okay," Stormer said sorrowfully, spreading her hands, "well, then if it comes to that, I'll leave the band. I don't want to do anything to get you guys in trouble or hurt your career. So if it comes to that, I'll leave. Maybe I can still work on writing the songs, but you can get someone else to go on tour with you.

"No way," Pizzazz said firmly. "Nobody leaves the Misfits."

"But I –"

"She's right," Roxy agreed, despite her anger at her friend. "We gotta think of another way."

There was silence for a moment or two. Then Stormer said, "Well, maybe I should go talk to Kimber. I could tell her that I didn't know what I was talking about, and I could try to find out if she told anyone else."

"I don't think that would do any good," Pizzazz said.

"I don't know, Pizzazz, I think it's a good idea," Jetta said. "Kimber's a complete muppet; she might believe it."

"Why remind her of it? Maybe she's forgotten!"

Stormer shook her head. "I doubt she's forgotten. After I told her, from that point on she always treated me a little differently. Different enough that I knew she was thinking of it." She paused. "No, I'd be shocked if Kimber's forgotten. I think I should talk to her. She doesn't always realize….how serious some things are. Maybe I could remind her not to tell anyone and tell her that I didn't know what I was talking about when I told her. I'll just tell her I was sad and confused and I missed my mother or something."

"If you're convincing enough, she'd probably swallow it," Jetta said conspiratorially.

"Yeah, I think so too," Roxy said. "Look, the Holograms are a bunch of twits but I don't think they'd ever try to hurt Stormer. They like her. So maybe she goes, talks to Kimber, and reminds her not to blab this to anyone."

"Okay," Pizzazz said. "We'll try that."

Stormer looked around the table at her bandmates and saw a myriad of emotions reflected in their faces. There was fear and uncertainty, though most of it was Stormer's own. The anger was there too, eternally present. Against her better judgment, Stormer decided to apologize once more to her bandmates.

"I'm sorry about all the trouble this has caused," she said quietly, the sick feeling present in her gut. "I wish things were different."

Part of Pizzazz truly wanted to react with kindness and understanding. Part of her wanted to extend some empathy to her bandmate and friend. But the part of her that saw things differently won out. "Yeah, me too," she said bitterly.

Stormer, reproached, looked down.

Jetta, too, had a part of her that wanted to show Stormer some compassion. But she, like Pizzazz, failed. She decided to follow her leader's tone. "This has been a bloody pain in the arse," she mumbled.

Roxy kept quiet but she cut her eyes at Stormer, still furious that she had confided in Kimber.

Their meeting dissembled. Stormer skulked back to her room.

-------------------------

Well, I felt about two inches tall. The officer in Chicago did a number on me. I faced more potential problems with the law. And worse, my bandmates resented me.

And what I said to Roxy earlier did go against the fact that I had come out to Kimber. I couldn't explain why, but telling Kimber felt totally different to me and it didn't seem like a contradiction to what I'd told Roxy. But it didn't matter. I hadn't convinced Roxy, and I had no idea how I ever would.

Maybe Pizzazz and Jetta didn't mean to sound as bad as they did after I apologized, I told myself. Maybe apologizing had been a bad idea. Fleetingly, I wondered what it would be like if I'd joined the Holograms. They'd probably all be hugging me and asking what they could do to support me.

But then again, maybe not. Kimber was clearly uncomfortable with my being gay. No idea how the rest of the group would take it, but I could see them all not being thrilled about it either.

And then I reminded myself of a few things about the Misfits. I had offered to leave the band and Pizzazz soundly defeated that idea. She still wanted me in the group. The other Misfits went back for me in Chicago, Pizzazz had to beg her father for the use of a helicopter to get me home, and she went to see that Terry Winters guy on my behalf. In her own way, she was showing me that she cared. There wasn't much else I could ask for. She wasn't the type to throw her arms around me and let me cry on her shoulder anyway.

I thought again about how uncomfortable Kimber had seemed. I guess I kept stewing over it since I dreaded going to see her about it again.

I wasn't sure if the Misfits were really uncomfortable or not. It was almost more like they were pissed at the inconvenience this was causing, but no one seemed freaked out by being around a lesbian.

Not knowing what else to do, I decided that there were one or two things I was good at and that might cheer me up. I picked up my keyboards and began to compose. And I decided I'd cook dinner for the band later on. I could make lasagna (hard work but a very popular dish with the others), salad, and maybe even my famous chocolate chip cheesecake.

I turned the tape recorder on, put my fingers to the keys, and lost myself in the music. The sounds that came out of me were perhaps a bit more mournful and reflective than a lot of our music but I didn't care; I just allowed the music to take over. I turned my experiences over the past few days into a piece of music and it gradually began to take shape.

At some point, Roxy entered my room with her guitar. Wordlessly, she sat down next to me and began to play. Our sounds started as a cacophony but after a while, my keyboard and her guitar meshed into a melodic tune. After we played it a few times and had it captured on tape, Roxy shut the recorder off.

I guessed that was perhaps an indication that she wanted to talk. So I began, "Look, Roxy, I'm –-"

She cut me off. "Hey. Don't apologize again."

For someone who's been called ignorant, Roxy can sure be perceptive when she wants to. "Okay," I said. Then the fact popped into my head. "Would it help if I told you that I just cared a lot more about what you and the others thought about me than I cared about what Kimber thought?"

From the look on her face, I guessed that that did make a difference. But she said, "Yeah, I guess so. But screw it. I'm not pissed anymore."

She smiled at me, and we resumed making music together.

--------------------------

The Misfits enjoyed a scrumptious dinner of lasagna and salad, with chocolate chip cheesecake as the crème de la crème, compliments of Stormer.

"Oh, isn't this just so cute?" Jetta said, holding the newspaper. "The Holograms get the front page again."

"What is it this time?" Pizzazz asked, sounding more annoyed than angry.

Jetta read from the article, "The Hologram's guitarist, Shana Elmsford is to marry her longtime boyfriend, director Anthony Julian.'"

"Sheesh, finally," Roxy said, speaking with her mouth full. "I thought they're already engaged."

"Looks like they have been," Jetta said. "But they've announced that the wedding will be in June. Oh how sweet. Her bandmates and Jerrica Benton will all be her bridesmaids. She's not having a maid of honor."

"It looks like the Holograms are in the mood for settling down," Stormer observed, very proud of both her culinary and musical achievements this evening. The others had raved about the lasagna, and had been thrilled when she told them about the progress on a new song. "I didn't tell you guys that my brother is returning from London."

"Is he?" Jetta asked, her ears perking up with mention of her homeland. "Permanently?"

"Yes. He said part of the reason is that the music scene's dead, but I think his biggest reason is that he and Aja are going to try to give their relationship a real chance. I don't think the long-distance thing's been working out too well for them."

"Bet you're thrilled that you're brother's comin' back," Roxy said.

"I am. And who knows? Maybe Shana won't be the only Hologram to be getting married soon."

"What a romantic time for our old rivals," Pizzazz said, with a smidgeon of sarcasm, though she was devoid of any malice tonight.

None of the Misfits had had a serious, long-term relationship, Pizzazz realized. She knew that some of the reasons were logistical: playing in a band for the past several years, constant touring, and the hectic pace of a rock star's life. And, of course, none of them had any desire to settle down and make a commitment just yet. Pizzazz understood enough, too, to see that the group also had their own issues to deal with. Love was not easy for any of them. Inwardly, she shrugged. It was enough that they'd concentrated on their friendship lately; romantic attachments could happen later.

-----------------------

A few days later, Stormer was at her family's old house having spent the morning cleaning the place. She was doing so to prepare both for her brother's return (Craig had his ticket and would be home in a week) as well as for a lunch she had arranged there with Kimber. Stormer had called the Starlight House several times over the past few days and finally had gotten a hold of Kimber. Kimber had been happy to plan some time together, and Stormer suggested her family's house.

As she dusted, Stormer inwardly thrashed herself for her revelation to Kimber. How could I have been so stupid?' she asked herself. 'Well, that was such a weird time, being away from the Misfits. Everything in my life was new and different then. But why did I have to tell Kimber? Of course she would've told the other Holograms! What was I thinking?' She then wondered, her heart sinking, So, if Kimber did tell Aja, then did Aja tell Craig?'

Kimber called Stormer's house just before she left Starlight mansion to say that she was on her way.

"Do you like Mexican?" Stormer asked. "I thought I'd make tacos."

"That sounds lovely!" enthused Kimber. "But I gotta go light on the beef and sour cream. I'm trying to watch my calories."

"Okay," Stormer laughed, "I'll hide the sour cream from you!"

Soon Kimber arrived and met Stormer at the door with a gift. She had purchased a scarf for her friend.

"We played in Canada a while ago, and I went to this boutique where they had the most beautiful hand made scarves! The blue color reminded me of you," Kimber said. "I haven't had a chance to give this to you yet." They chatted for a bit about the boutique, and other sites and adventures on the Holograms' last tour.

"So what have the Holograms been up to lately?" Stormer asked, as they finally sat down to eat.

Kimber shrugged. "We're writing songs, making a few appearances here and there. No big plans to release an album or go on tour anytime soon. It's hard with the economy being so bad right now."

Stormer nodded. "It's impacted us too."

"We're kinda trying to ride out the storm and hope things get better soon. And we're trying to stay in the public's eye too."

"I know what you mean. Hey, what about the Starlight House? Are you able to get by?"

"Oh, yeah, we have a good endowment that we've built up…." Kimber paused and laughed, "sheesh, I sound like Jerrica now! But I think the house will do okay for the time being. My sis isn't all that worried anyhow. Leila – one of our oldest girls – she's in college now."

"That's great! Hey, I heard that Shana and Anthony have finally announced a date for their wedding."

"I know – it's totally outrageous! I'm so happy for them!" She paused and said, "Stormer, these tacos are great. I love the avocado! This salsa tastes so fresh."

"I made it myself," Stormer said proudly.

"I gotta take some of this to Raya – I bet she'd love it! Anyway, about Shana and Anthony -- Shana always knew that they'd get married someday. She told us so a week or two after they met, which she recently reminded us of. And we all love Anthony; it's so cool that he's going to be a member of our family!

"But speaking of people's love lives," Kimber continued, "Aja is so excited that Craig's coming back!"

"I know," Stormer said, smiling. "I am too. I really hope it works out between them."

"I do too. And I gotta think it will! They've kept it going long distance for so long. I've never seen Aja so sweet on someone."

"How about you?" Stormer began, trying to gently shift the conversation over to the item she needed discuss, as much as she dreaded it. "What's new with you in the boyfriend department?"

"Oh, nothing big. I'm seeing a few guys here and there but nothing serious. Oh my God, did I tell you about this awful date I went on recently? I met this guy at a club. We talked for a bit, we danced a lot, and before I left, we exchanged numbers. I didn't really think it would go anywhere or that he'd actually call, but he did. So we met for coffee. Oh Stormer, it went so bad. We had nothing to talk about!"

"You? Nothing to talk about??" Stormer teased.

"It's true, I know it's hard to believe. But I got up to go to the bathroom at one point, and when I got back to our table, he'd left! The server told me that the bill had been paid. He flat out walked out on me!"

"What a loser," Stormer said.

Kimber shrugged. "His loss, not mine. He was cute but he was such a bore." She paused, and then asked, "So, um….what about you? How's your love life?"

Stormer easily picked up the discomfort in Kimber's voice; hiding emotions and feelings was not one of Kimber's strengths. "Well, actually…that's one of the things I wanted to talk about with you today."

Stormer could feel her cheeks flush and hoped Kimber wouldn't notice her hands were shaking slightly

"Um, do you remember that I told you something when we were working on Back 2 Back?" Stormer asked. "I just wanted to let you know that what I told you isn't true anymore," she said, forcing a smile. "I don't know what I was thinking when I told you that I was gay! I guess I was just confused and all. Things have been weird for me since my mother died….I just didn't know what the heck I was talking about. I was going through a phase or something. But I, uh, wanted to let you know that I am definitely straight!"

Kimber smiled. "That's great! Um, not that I would've cared one way or the other though," she said, with a little forced laugh.

"Cool." After an awkward pause, Stormer said, "Well, Kimber I was wondering….did you tell anyone what I told you? Um, please let me know and I promise I won't be upset if you did. I just need to know if you told anyone."

It was Kimber's turn to blush and look down. "Well, I…."

"It's okay, Kimber. Did you tell the other Holograms?"

"Yes," Kimber admitted, not meeting Stormer's eyes.

"And Jem? And your sister?"

"Oh, gee. Stormer, I'm so sorry." She put her taco down and looked repentant. "I feel sick. I'm sorry," she repeated.

"No, no, Kimber, it's okay," Stormer said, gently touching Kimber's arm. She wasn't happy about this but she wasn't the least bit surprised either.

"But they're all really good about keeping secrets!" Kimber vowed. "And it's just that….we all share everything. The five – six – of us are really close. We tell each other everything."

"I know, I know. It's okay, Kimber."

"No, it's not okay. I betrayed your trust in me! And it's even worse now, since what you told me isn't even true anymore."

"Don't worry about it. The only thing is….Kimber, you know with everything that's going on now, like with this Department of Morality…I could get in a lot of trouble, if someone was to think that I was gay. I think I could even go to jail in some cities and states."

"Really?" Kimber asked, wide-eyed. "Oh wow. But it would be okay now, since you're not like actually gay, right?"

"Well, I think so. But even if I was suspected I could get in trouble. Kimber, it's really important that you and your bandmates don't tell anyone else," Stormer urged, firmly.

"I promise we won't! Do you think I should tell them what you told me, that it was just a phase you were going through?"

"I don't know. I think the most important thing is that they understand how serious this is, and not tell anyone else."

"I got it. We won't let you down, Stormer," Kimber vowed. She meant every word.

"Great! So, let's talk about happier things then. Have you and the others picked out your bridesmaids dresses yet?"

"Shana's designing them for us," Kimber said, her trademark enthusiasm having returned.

"Oh, of course," Stormer laughed, having momentarily forgotten about Shana's designing skills.

"The gowns are going to be stunning when they're finished. And Shana will be the most beautiful bride!"

---------------------------

The next day in the studio, Jem and the Holograms were not having a productive session. In lieu of practicing, the young women were spending most of their time chatting. The premier topic was Shana's upcoming nuptials, though the band's shy guitarist wished they'd discuss something else as she did not wish to be the center of attention.

Aja later asked Kimber about lunch with Stormer, and she gave them a brief run-down. Kimber told them about their discussion.

"So that's what she said," Kimber finished. "Gosh, I didn't know that she could get into a lot of trouble for that!"

"I'm just glad that she's not….that way anymore," Raya said softly. "That's no way to live a life." She had a cousin back in Mexico who was gay. He had been ostracized from his family and Raya would not wish his lonely existence on anyone.

Jem looked at Aja and said, "I bet Craig would also be glad that his sister's not… that way anymore."

Aja returned Jem's gaze and said, "I think Craig loves his sister, and something like that wouldn't matter to him. Me, I could care less if someone is 'that way' or not." She paused for a second, trying to temper her irritation at the fuss they were making. "But regardless, I don't know if Craig even knows. I never said anything about it to him." Aja wondered how honest Stormer had been during her lunch with Kimber.

"Well, whatever we might think of this," Jem concluded, "we do need to keep in mind what Kimber said. None of us want Stormer to get in trouble with the law."

Shana nodded. "These are scary times now. Let's just be glad that Stormer has recovered now and make sure we don't ever reveal anything about her past."

Jem suppressed a giggle. "I wonder if the Misfits ever knew."

"Are you kidding?" Shana said. "They're so narrow-minded, they would've kicked her out ages ago if they'd ever found out!"

-------------------------

We worked on promoting ourselves and staying in the public eye, but it wasn't easy. There just were a lot fewer outlets than there had been – fewer rock magazines, fewer shows, and a limited selection of artists they would profile. We did make a brief appearance on one show and Pizzazz did a couple of interviews.

"You sure things aren't any better in the UK, Jetta?" Pizzazz once asked our saxophonist. "Maybe we should move there for the time being."

"I'd love it if we could go back to my home," Jetta replied. "But I don't think we're going to have much more luck there from what I've heard. Besides, emigrating there could cause some….problems," she said, looking in my direction with that last bit.

I was counting down the number of days until Craig would return from England. I could hardly wait to see my brother!

Roxy shrugged. "Isn't England like really small anyway? There's more music fans here, more people who could buy our stuff and come to our shows."

So we stayed put. If the promotion piece wasn't what it once was, at least the songwriting was going well. I had all these feelings bursting from inside of me, and I managed to translate them into songs. Generally speaking, when it comes to writing our songs, I will create the demos. Then all four of us go through them and polish them up with Jetta and Roxy embellishing their instruments' parts and Pizzazz writing most of the lyrics. I often change some of the elements around during this stage too. So, in a relatively short amount of time, we had a nice stockpile of new songs in the works. We weren't anywhere near ready to go the recording studio yet but it didn't matter since time was on our side.

"Okay, Misfits," Pizzazz said, after one such session. "Enough work for today. Time for a girls' night out!"

I smiled at the prospect. We did spend a lot of time hanging around the mansion, doing thing such as swimming and watching movies. The wild nights on the town we used to have weren't as numerous now. There were too many possible ways to get in trouble with the law, and fewer options for getting bailed out now.

"Hey, I've got an idea," Jetta began, in that special tone she uses when you know she's cooking up something good. "How about the Sugar Shack?" she suggested, giving the name of the strip club where the guys went "the full monty". She then looked at me and said, dejectedly, "Oh, but Stormer, you –"

"No, no," I said, waving my hands, "I'd actually love to go along with you! I had a fun time when we went." Believe it or not, I was telling the truth.

"Then let's go!" Pizzazz said.

"I'll ring them first to see what time they open. It's only 8:00 now," Jetta said.

"Why would ya enjoy that?" Roxy asked me, sounding confused, as Jetta retrieved the phone book. "I mean, shit I sure wouldn't wanna watch any female strippers!"

I shrugged. "I dunno, it's just kinda fun to go and see you three having such a good time. And it's a night on the town! Though the guys do nothing for me."

"She just wants to see what she's missing," Pizzazz said, authoritatively.

Unfortunately, we didn't get to take our trip to the Sugar Shack. The place had closed. In fact, we couldn't find any male strip joints. We wondered if maybe the Morality Office had shut them down. (Oddly enough though, strip joints featuring female strippers were still plentiful). So we just settled for going out to a dance club.

----------------------

One day the butler summoned me, saying that I had a phone call. I leapt to my feet, thinking that perhaps it was Craig. It wasn't my brother, though. It was Aja Leith.

"Craig's coming in the day after tomorrow," Aja said.

"I know," I replied, smiling. It was strange to be so casually talking on the phone to one of the Holograms other than Kimber. Our feud with that band had lasted so long, and I always felt pangs of guilt whenever I thought of Jem and the Holograms and everything we'd done to them. (Even though part of me had a blast while doing it. I can be so evil.)

"Listen, I was going to meet him at the gate. I was wondering if you planned to do the same," Aja said.

"Yeah, I also wanted to meet him there. I'm planning on bringing a pizza, since he hates airplane food."

"So, do you want to carpool?" Aja asked.

"I'd love to. I guess it doesn't make sense for both of us to drive there separately."

We made plans for me to pick Aja up on the way to the airport. While in town, Craig would be using my car until he could get on his feet financially. I didn't mind if he used my vehicle; I knew that he'd sacrificed a lot to try to make it as a musician and luck hadn't smiled on him the way it had on me. He didn't have a lot of money saved, I knew.

The day finally arrived! I got up early and drove to Starlight House. My excitement over seeing Craig was tempered only by the realization that I had a long car ride to share with Aja, and then even more time together at the gate with her. What would we talk about? With Kimber, it was always easy. She was so ebullient and talkative. Aja had more seriousness to her and wasn't as outgoing; sometimes it seemed she even boarded on being stern. And I know I've said it before, but I really have felt tremendous guilt over everything the Misfits did to Jem and the Holograms. I think back to some of the stuff and I shudder. Another thing that added to the awkwardness level was the fact that Kimber had outed me to Aja. Even though I knew she might have de-outed me since then, it still felt weird. To me, this was such a personal thing, one that I didn't want to share with anyone outside of the band. It felt weird knowing that she'd been told.

So I kicked off our conversation in the car with the hot topic for the Holograms: Shana's wedding.

"She's not going to leave the band, is she?" I asked.

"No, there aren't any plans at all for her to do that," Aja replied. "We were just talking about that, and she said that they don't plan to have children anytime soon. She said that maybe once that happens, she'll take a break from the group, but that's not for a long time. And even then, she would just go on hiatus from us, but she'll never leave."

"That's good," I said. "Where will Anthony and Shana live? Can they live at Starlight House with the rest of you?"

Aja shook her head. "We're not allowed to have a man sleep over at Starlight House, since it's a foster home for girls. He has his own condo. Shana stays there sometimes and she'll probably just spend more time there. But we're adamant that she not completely move out of Starlight House! And she's so loyal, she won't do it. We want her there with us at least a couple nights a week."

"That's nice how close you all are," I said, keeping my eyes on the road.

"So how are things with the Misfits? They treating you okay?" Aja asked. She made the question sound like an innocent one. Of course, I always had to wonder what Craig has told her since he so clearly wants me to leave the group.

"Oh yeah. We're getting along better than ever. Um, I'm really glad that we called that truce with your group."

Aja nodded. "Someday you'll have to tell me how you ever got Pizzazz and the others to agree to that. And to bring gifts for Ba Nee."

For a moment or two, I found myself lost in a memory of that time. I smiled at the thoughts because it was such a good time for the group.

_This is how it happened. We had reunited not long ago, after having briefly lost Pizzazz to her Riot-madness. The four of us were delighted to be back together. Pizzazz, though, was still sullen because she was realizing that the man she obsessed over wasn't interested in her; instead, his feelings were for her biggest rival, Jem. Very rarely have I ever seen Pizzazz break down, but we saw it. She opened up to us that night on the beach (the same beach where we later shot the "Now" video). We actually had a talk. It was the first time Pizzazz verbalized how much she cared for us – both as sisters and as a band. _

_Since that time something shifted in the band. The shift had begun when I left the group and they persuaded me to return, and the change was complete at that time. Pizzazz listened to me, to my suggestions. I adopted the role of the peace-maker in the group; I helped us get along better and work through our issues. The others followed through with what they agreed to when I had re-joined the band: they listened to my ideas and respected them. And although we've never had that "group therapy" session that we probably all need, we did manage to keep up the conversation that started on that beach. _

_So I think the idea of calling a truce with Jem and the Holograms – and buying departing gifts for Ba Nee – naturally flowed out of all those things. My new role and influence within the band, the fact that we were slowly facing our own childhoods, the fact that we were realizing our music was powerful and we didn't need to keep attacking Jem and her group. Instead we focused on us -- our music, what we had among us, what we meant to each other._

My pleasant reverie was interrupted by a question from Aja.

"I heard you had a tour that just finished up. How did it go?" she asked.

"It was great! They were probably the smallest venues we'd played since the band first started, but…." I let my voice trail off.

"But what can you do? Nobody plays stadiums anymore. A lot of the bigger concert halls are closed now too. So are a lot of the mid-sized ones."

I shrugged. "I kinda like the smaller places anyway. You can get great audience interaction. Pizzazz is a pro at that – she looks practically everyone in the audience in the eye. They're glued to her the entire set."

"I heard Eric's not your manager anymore," Aja said. She changed the subject a bit abruptly and I wondered if perhaps she didn't care for the adulation in my voice on the subject of Pizzazz. Well, I can't blame her since Pizzazz spearheaded so many attacks on her group, but I won't hide my feelings about Pizzazz as a performer either. She'll never win a Humanitarian award, but no one can match her strong singing voice or her on-stage charisma either.

"Yeah, he took off. Riot's not saying where he went. I'm glad to be rid of the creep myself," I said.

"He was such a scumbag," Aja breathed with enmity.

"Won't argue with you there," I said.

The more we talked, the easier it became. It was kinda cool because I knew my brother cared about this woman, and I could see why. And things would be so much easier for Craig if the two of us (and our bands) could get along.

We reached the airport and stopped at a pizza place to get Craig's favorite snack. A few people recognized us and asked for autographs; we were glad to oblige. We arrived at the gate just as people were getting off the plane.

"There he is!" I exclaimed when I saw Craig. What can I say? Maybe I was over-enthusiastic but I adore my brother. I rushed up to him and hugged him. It felt so good to get a hug since rarely did I get to experience any physical affection. Craig was the first one to let go of the hug.

He then hugged and kissed Aja. I stood back and watched them. I almost felt guilty looking; their embrace was one that nearly seemed too private to take place in front of all these people. It was almost like I could see the energy between them. A vision of Aja in a wedding gown flashed in my head and I wondered if Shana would soon be followed down the aisle. I simultaneously felt guilt at watching and happiness for them.

And then, jealousy -- as I wondered whether I could ever dare to even hope for that kind of love in my own life.

-------------------------

Riot had returned from his quick trip to Chicago. Minx and Rapture were delighted to have their leader back in town.

"Did you get what you were looking for?" Rapture asked.

"From the look on your face, I think that you did," Minx said, with a smile.

Riot nodded.

Rapture put her hands on her hips and asked, "Well, are you ever going to let us in on your scheme? What were you doing in Chicago?"

"Let's just say that we now have what we need to get rid of the Misfits once and for all," Riot said, nearly purring.

"The Misfits?" Minx asked, wrinkling her brow. "Is that what this is about? Who cares about them?"

"Yeah, ever since we hit the scene, they've been the number three band in America," Rapture added, triumphantly.

"Think about it," Riot encouraged. "We still have a lot to gain by getting rid of them. With the music business in such bad shape, it is to our advantage to have one fewer supergroup to compete with. When things turn around, they won't be around to contend with our ticket sales and album sales. And I won't have to deal with pesky Pizzazz anymore." He smiled at the thought of the chance to see Pizzazz fall apart once and for all.

"Your logic is perfect, as always. It will be nice to get to see them taken down. Again," Rapture said.

"So what's the plan?" Minx asked, intrigued.

"It's very simple. We're going to destroy the heart and soul of the group." He paused and smiled, and then spoke with utmost certainty, "They will not recover from this."

**------------------------------**

**TO BE CONTINUED**

Author's Notes:

For purposes of this fanfic, I consider the episode "The Day the Music Died" to be apocryphal. It was a fun idea, attempting to use all three bands, but it contained plot holes you could drive the Rock N Roadster through and is just too far fetched. So as far as my fic is concerned, it never happened. There are other episodes I would similarly toss out ("Journey Through Time" springs to mind) but I mention this one since it impacted all three bands and all three are now appearing in my fic.

Also, feedback is always very appreciated. Thanks to everyone who has posted or emailed a review.


	5. Chapter 5

**Farewell to Life the Way We Knew It**

By

**CHAPTER FIVE**

--------------------------

"I hate being cooped up here all day," Pizzazz groaned one afternoon. She was lounging outside by the mansion's pool with Roxy and Jetta. Stormer was out with her brother. Pizzazz longed to be on the town, making mischief, but she didn't want to risk any run-ins with the authorities either.

"It could be worse," Roxy shrugged. "At least we're cooped up someplace nice."

"This is such a beautiful mansion," Jetta murmured. Some days she had to pinch herself to ensure she wasn't dreaming. She could hardly believe that she lived on such a scenic estate, with the warm sun smiling on the pool's clean water. It was such a contrast from the squalid flat she'd grown up in, in which she didn't even have her own room and had slept on the sofa. At this mansion, you could look out a window and see an expanse of lush green trees. At her parents' flat, all she'd seen was concrete and traffic. She quickly pushed those memories aside.

"I hope we get to stay here. Daddy said something to me the other day about possibly selling the place," Pizzazz said.

"What??" Roxy asked, nearly choking on her beer.

"Oh, ease up. I don't think he was serious. He just said that if things don't turn around we may need to sell this one and move to a smaller mansion."

Roxy and Jetta exchanged a look, both a bit incredulous at Pizzazz's lack of alarm over this.

"Would your dad joke about something like that?" Jetta asked.

"I dunno. He sounded like he was just tossing ideas out."

"How much smaller? I mean like, how much smaller of a mansion would we move to?" Roxy asked. Like Jetta, she had grown up poor. Like Jetta, she had gotten very used to living at the Gabor mansion.

"Oh don't worry – I'm sure you'll all still have your own rooms." Pizzazz looked at the two and saw their genuine worry. Her voice carried irritation now, "Like I said, ease up you two! I don't think it's gonna happen."

Jetta reclined back on her lounger. "Even if he did want to sell this place, I don't know whether he could find a buyer."

Pizzazz decidedly disliked the turn this conversation had taken, and she wished she hadn't brought it up at all. She'd have to ask her father for more details next time she saw him. Weeks would slip by without them seeing each other – oftentimes more than a month would elapse.

"I have such a kink in my neck," Pizzazz groaned, as she rubbed the side of her neck. "Must've slept funny. I gotta get Stormer to give me another massage."

Roxy looked at Pizzazz. She herself had only once tried to have a massage, years ago. It was hard for her to get used to someone touching her like that and she hadn't enjoyed it. She wondered about giving it another try.

"She's good," Jetta said. "I had this 'orrible kink in my shoulder the other day and she worked it out."

"Maybe she oughta request tips," Roxy remarked snidely.

Just then, the butler approached. "Excuse me, ladies," he began. "Miss Gabor, you have a telephone call. Riot is on the line." He held the phone in his hands.

"Riot?" Pizzazz asked, sitting bolt upright.

Roxy and Jetta exchanged semi-alarmed looks. Both detested the hold that that man still had on their leader.

"Let's put Riot on speaker," Jetta suggested. She half-expected Pizzazz to shoot the idea right down, but instead Pizzazz acquiesced.

"Okay," Pizzazz said. She briefly looked at her bandmates, and Jetta caught the glance, wondering if Pizzazz was trying to steady herself before the conversation.

"Hello," Pizzazz said, once the phone was on speaker.

"Pizzazz, how are you today?" Riot asked.

Roxy's ears protested the sound of that man's voice. Everything that he and his band had done came floating to the surface again. Once more, she and Jetta looked at each other and both saw her own disgust mirrored in the other's face.

"I'm doing fine, Riot," Pizzazz responded, her voice a note or two higher and softer than usual. "How are you?"

"I'm doing very well," he responded. Roxy felt like gagging at all the polite talk. "The reason why I was calling is because I would like you – and the other Misfits, if you wish – to come to Stinger Sound. I have a business proposal that I would like to discuss in person."

"Really?" Jetta asked. She expected that Pizzazz would throw her a sour look for butting into the conversation – and she was right – but she wanted to speak. "What do you mean by a business proposal?"

"Jetta, is that you? How nice to hear from you," Riot said. He then continued, "I really would prefer that we discuss the details in person. But I can tell you that it has to do with promoting our bands and gaining mutual benefit. For the Misfits, the Stingers, and Jem and the Holograms."

Pizzazz wrinkled her nose at the mention of the last group. However, she was intrigued. Jetta and Roxy were curious as well, and the Misfits and Riot made plans to meet the next day.

-----------------------------

I supposed it's normal. If you were moving to a city where your sister and your girlfriend lived, you'd probably spend more time with your girlfriend than your sister. That's how it was for Craig, and I tried not to get too jealous. I really love my brother but I guess it's natural that more of his free time would be spent with Aja.

Of course that didn't mean he was neglecting me. Free time was something Craig had a lot of; he was not exactly chasing after his music career with a vengeance. One afternoon, we found ourselves spending some time together. First I played for him, on my synth, some of the new songs I'd written. We then drove around and stopped at a park. I asked where Aja was that day and Craig said that she was at a meeting with the rest of her band and the Stingers.

When Craig was driving me back to the Gabor mansion to drop me off, I asked, with a little laugh, "Do you want to come in? Say hi to Pizzazz and crew?"

He replied, sarcastically, "Um, let me think about that. No thanks."

"They really have gotten nicer since your last interaction with them," I said, with a smile. "What you saw during the talent search – that was the Misfits at their absolute worst."

"You keep saying that; I guess I gotta believe you," he said, though he was clearly unconvinced. "I wish you'd go solo though. And I sure wish I had an example or something of how much nicer and better your dear bandmates are now."

Whenever Craig talks about my bandmates, you can just tell how much he dislikes them. It's not just the tone of his voice or the words he says – even the looks on his face scream out how much he can't stand them. I so much wanted him to see their good qualities that I didn't think before I spoke.

"Look, just recently they….they helped me out when things looked really bad for me. They took care of me. In their own way."

I regretted even saying the words, since I now knew I was backed into a corner. I didn't want to tell Craig the whole story, but I so desperately wanted him to understand how the group functions as a family (a dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless).

"Really? You were in trouble? What happened, Mary?

"I can't go into a lot of detail about it. But I was in trouble and they came to my rescue. They were great."

"But why can't you tell me about what happened?" he persisted. "What sort of trouble were you in? Is it something I can help with?"

"I – I'll tell you later," I stammered, and I knew I was blushing again.

Craig sighed. "Are you hiding something from me, Mary? Sometimes you're just so closed off to me. Is there something we should talk about?"

My heart sank. Aja must've told him. Damn Kimber and her motor mouth! That's the last time I ever tell her anything of importance. And damn Aja too.

I just didn't want Craig to know yet. I wasn't ready to have that conversation. Look, I'm not someone who's ever going to wave a flag or march in a parade. Maybe someday I'll be comfortable being gay and settle down with someone and have her be accepted by my family. But today is not that day.

I was saved by the timing – we had reached the mansion. We pulled right up to the circular front entrance (there no longer was a manned gate to screen visitors).

"Let's talk about this later, okay?" I asked.

"Okay, but I'm holding you to this. I'm not going to drop it."

I didn't reply. Instead I reached over to give him a hug before scampering out of the car.

Roxy met me just moments after I entered the great hall of the mansion. I started towards the main staircase when I saw her coming my way.

"Hey, Stormer," she said in greeting. "How'd your day with your brother go?"

"It was nice. I played him some of the songs I've written and then we went to a park."

"Hmmm. You sure he's not gonna leak any of those songs to the Holo-twerps?"

"Oh, come on, Roxy," I said. She'd sounded serious, which scared me. "Craig would never do that. And besides, he can't play the keyboards to save his life."

Roxy then filled me in on some of what I missed during the day. She mentioned the meeting with the Stingers scheduled for tomorrow and then told me, "Pizzazz wants us to have a slumber party tonight," she said.

"Sounds lovely. It's been a while since we've had one," I replied.

I can't remember at what point we started having slumber parties but I know it was before Jetta joined. I think one of our first ones was around the time we'd wanted to play that gig at the victory party for the Indy 500. Nothing too fancy, our slumber parties consisted of us putting our sleepwear on, going downstairs to the mansion's rec room, cooking, eating, playing darts or pool or whatever, maybe doing each other's hair and such, watching a video, usually sleeping on sleeping bags on the floor (though Pizzazz somehow always manages to grab the pull-out bed in the sofa), etc. Standard sleep-over fare. I remembered the first time the Misfits had such a party – it was Pizzazz's idea and when I heard it, I was quite surprised that she'd wanted to do this. I'm pretty sure that Roxy never had one before as a child. I also remembered the look on Jetta's face after she joined and we'd told her about this tradition. She'd been surprised but she came to enjoy this just fine as well. A childhood tradition for people who's childhoods had not been so great?

Several hours later, I was wearing a robe over my pajamas and sitting on the sofa eating chips and dip with Roxy. Pizzazz and Jetta were playing ping pong at the nearby table. Roxy and I were only half-watching the movie that played on the TV.

"If we do hafta move to another mansion, I hope we still have a cool rec room like this," Roxy said, her mouth full. She was wearing a typical bedtime outfit for her – an oversized shirt. She had no leggings or other "bottoms" on, and her bare legs were curled up underneath her. I had to make sure my eyes never lingered on those legs for too long.

"Move to another mansion?" I asked, raising my voice and looking at Pizzazz.

"Sheesh, I regret I ever brought it up!" Pizzazz exclaimed, as she lobbed the ping pong over at Jetta. Jetta had to lunge for it and missed. "I doubt we're gonna move. My father was just saying that it's a possibility!"

Pizzazz got reabsorbed in her game when Jetta shot another ball over in her direction. Roxy turned to me and spoke quietly enough that Pizzazz and Jetta probably couldn't hear.

"I hear you're running a massage service," she said.

"What? Oh that. Well, those two both like it and we don't have a spa here anymore." I looked at her and asked, "You don't like massages, do you?"

"Tried it once and felt all weird with someone touching me," she explained. "I made 'em stop."

"Really?" I asked. I hoped that maybe someday Roxy would open up and tell me a bit about her childhood. From the clues I had picked up, I am almost sure she was physically abused. (And if I ever get my hands on the person or people who did that, I will show them how tough Stormer can be!) Needless to say, Roxy's not exactly forthcoming with this information and I knew that today would be no exception. "Well, if you ever want to try it again, I'd be happy to. I enjoy working with my hands."

"You sure you're not just trying to get your hands on some straight girl flesh?" she teased.

I could tell from her voice that she was just kidding, so I playfully swatted at her. Then, seriously, I began, "Aww, gimme a break. Doing stuff like that is how I show that I care about you guys."

"Oh how sweet," she muttered sarcastically, though I could tell – I've known Roxy long enough – that deep down she was pleased by my declaration of caring. Deep down, that is.

"So like are you ever gonna go out and find yourself a girlfriend then?" she asked, jokingly again. "So we don't hafta worry about hanging out with this horny lesbo all the time??"

"Maybe someday. I'm not ready yet," I replied, just as Pizzazz asked, "What the hell are you guys talking about??"

"Yeah, I thought I heard something about a 'horny lesbo'??" Jetta asked, laughing. "I had to ask meself if that's an animal you'd find in the jungle."

"Roxy's new name for me," I laughed, and the others giggled too. And really, I didn't mind their teasing since I could tell it was all meant in fun. Actually, that is another area where the three of them have really cleaned up their act, and I made a mental note to tell Craig about it. The day I walked out on the band, years ago, it was because they were teasing me harshly and not listening to my ideas. When I returned, I did so on my terms. The rest of the band had learned their lesson; they really cut down on 'taking the mickey out of me', as Jetta would say.

Just then, Jetta hit the ping pong ball way off-course and it landed in the dip that Roxy and I were sharing. "Great job, Jetta," Roxy said. I could see that Roxy was upset at the fate of our onion dip – neither of us wanted it now that the dirty ping pong ball had marred the dip.

So Roxy reached her hand in, scooped out the ball and lots of surrounding dip, and threw it back at Jetta. The mess landed on Jetta's alluring lilac nightgown.

"Hey, yank!" she yelled. "This nightie cost a fortune!" She then tossed her racket at Roxy. It hit her shoulder.

And so, the two of them had another spat. They spent some time throwing things at each other and yelling in general. For whatever reason, Pizzazz hadn't wanted to join in the fray that night. I could tell that their fight wasn't too serious so I didn't try to break it up. Actually, it seemed as though we'd gone a bit too long without a Jetta-Roxy fight and they are kind of funny to watch, in a pathetic sort of way.

And once they were finished getting it out of their system, they calmed down. I suggested that we play a board game and was surprised when not only did no one deride the idea, but they went along with it.

-----------------------------

The Misfits drove to Stinger Sound the next day. Pizzazz looked at the towering building with the words STINGER SOUND and the image of the blond trio emblazoned on the top. She remembered when the building had been called Misfit Music, when her band's name and images had been in lights. Those memories led her to recall also how Riot and his band had embarrassed her, demeaned her personally. The familiar feeling of rage welled up inside her, the discontent and pain rumbling in her gut. She fought hard to contain it, knowing that now was not the time to have a fit. She had to be calm and in control, especially around Riot.

Jetta sat next to her and looked at her out of the corner of her eye. She reached her hand over and gave Pizzazz's hand a small, barely perceptible squeeze. Deep down, Pizzazz appreciated the gesture (though she would never admit so). Roxy was a good friend too, but Jetta had a better understanding of people. Inwardly Pizzazz shrugged. She liked them both.

"Remember, Pizzazz," Stormer began gently, "you're our leader, but any decision we make today, we're going to make together."

"Yeah," Roxy added. "You lose your head when you're with Riot."

"Alright, alright, what the heck do you take me for??" Pizzazz asked, irritated.

"So what do you think he wants?" Jetta asked.

"Whatever it is, I smell a rat," Roxy responded.

Pizzazz said, "Come off it, Roxy. We don't even know what his business proposal – like he called it – is. We should at least hear him out."

Roxy's ears were offended at Pizzazz's words. Despite everything Riot and his band had done, Pizzazz cut him more slack than she did almost anyone. The thought disgusted her.

"Yeah, sure," she said, her voice full of vinegar. "Let's listen to the guy who took our record company from us, who played you for a fool, who's probably sleeping with the two sluts he has in his band --- "

Fortunately, Pizzazz had just parked the car in Stinger Sounds' garage, as she turned around in her seat and nearly lunged towards Roxy. She did not need another reminder of how Riot had played her. "Look, Roxy," she began, harshly, "why the hell don't you– "

"Hey, you two," Stormer cut in. She gently touched both Pizzazz's and Roxy's arms. "Come on, we're going into a meeting. Let's keep our heads about us," she said, her voice strong but soft. "We don't have a manager to help us – not that Eric was ever all that great – so we need to keep calm."

"She's right," Jetta said. "I don't know what Riot's on about, but he said it's a business proposal, and with the industry rotting away like it is, we need to listen to the bloke."

"We need to go in there with the Misfits' interests in mind, and we can't do that if we're fighting each other," Stormer said firmly.

Angry as she was, Pizzazz knew Stormer was right. When the Stingers had hit the scene, Stormer was the one who had really pulled the Misfits together. She was the one who pointed out that the Misfits had now lost their record company, that the Stingers were both musically stellar and very cunning, and that if the Misfits wanted to be able to stay afloat in this environment – now with two supergroups to compete against – they had to get their act together. With a burst of pride, Pizzazz thought that her band had indeed done so.

"Fine," the singer said. She turned the engine off and unlocked the doors. Those three had better appreciate my restraint – and my good business sense!' she thought.

When they reached the conference room where the Stingers waited, the Misfits observed Riot sitting at the head of the long, rectangular table. His posture was relaxed as he leaned against the back of his seat. Minx and Rapture sat on either side of him. The Stingers had never had a manager. Riot made all the decisions.

Pizzazz surveyed the room's set-up and decided to take the seat at the head of the opposite end of the table. It would place quite a bit of distance between the two groups. Roxy and Stormer took seats on her left side, Jetta on her right. Roxy glanced at Pizzazz out of the corner of her eye. 'Good', she thought. 'She looks composed and she's got her poker face on.' Roxy had to hope it would last.

A uniformed employee entered the room and offered drinks to the bands. As they were served, Riot dispensed with the usual platitudes, telling the Misfits how well they looked and chatting with Pizzazz about the weather.

As the small talk went on, Jetta looked at Riot and mused at how unimpressed she'd always been with his looks. Some women reacted to Riot as if he were a demigod but Riot's supposedly remarkable charisma did nothing for Jetta. He was handsome, yes, but Jetta didn't understand the women who reacted as if spellbound by him. She was glad that Roxy and Stormer weren't taken in either.

Riot then reached the point of the meeting. "These are difficult times for musical groups," he began. "We've all suffered from the closing of concert venues, decreased ticket sales, decreased record sales, consolidation of radio stations. Not to mention the fact that we're all living under a microscope. We just received a letter from the Department of Communications stating that they want to review our lyrics before they will distribute our next album." His voice conveyed disdain.

The Misfits exchanged a few looks with each other. This was new to them. Roxy wondered how this Department of Communications would have received the lyrics of "Welcome to the Jungle" or "I'm Gonna Hunt You Down."

"So what are you suggesting?" Pizzazz asked, her voice remaining even.

"An informal union – between the Stingers, the Misfits, and Jem and the Holograms. Now I do mean informal. At this point, if we tried to coordinate any sort of formal association, I do not think it would be received well. You must be wondering what I mean by an informal union. I propose that our groups do things such as keeping our eyes on government restrictions in areas like reviewing of lyrics; that we look for opportunities to keep popular music in the public's eye and to promote ourselves – and eventually other musical acts too. Later on I see us banding together with other artists, but for now let's start with the three most popular bands in America. We know that our three groups can work together well – we all conducted ourselves well at Ba Nee's going away party. I would like us to kick this off by doing a benefit concert."

"A benefit concert?" Pizzazz asked.

"I know it's not something your band makes a habit of doing. We don't either. But with music fans so strapped for money, maybe this is just what we need. People are desperate for….an escape, a means to have fun. So they can go to a benefit concert where the tickets are priced low, see three amazing music groups, and feel good about themselves in the process since they're contributing to a good cause. We, in turn, get a lot of free publicity and a chance to remain on the public's mind. All three of our bands are finding it harder and harder to get promoted. A benefit concert is just what we need to capture media attention again and cement our new pact."

Riot paused for effect. He could see that the Misfits were listening. So he continued, "Now Stinger Sound and Starlight Music will probably have to absorb much of the costs of this event. None of our bands will make any money off of this if we're going to keep the tickets cheap enough that people can afford them. We might not break even. So, right off the bat you need to understand that this is not a money-making plan. We're doing it to benefit a few good causes and promote ourselves."

"What types of charities will this be a benefit for?" Stormer asked. Riot saw that she leaned forward in her seat, looking engaged in the discussion. She looked so pretty and innocent that for a moment Riot had trouble believing what he'd learned about her.

"This is certainly open to negotiation. We compiled a list of suggestions – perhaps we can trim it down to two or three." Riot looked at Rapture, and she passed a piece of paper with the suggested charities down towards the Misfits.

"You mentioned Starlight Music. Did Jem and the Holograms agree to this?" Pizzazz asked as Stormer began to look over the list.

"Yes. They agreed when we met with them yesterday, whether or not the Misfits are in. But we hope you will join with us as well. Our three bands have been at the top of the charts for so long, it wouldn't be the same without you."

"Where were you thinking of having the concert?" Pizzazz asked. "A lot of the bigger places are closed."

"We have some ideas. Perhaps a medium-sized venue like the Gen Corp Arena. This will be the music event of the year – but unfortunately I don't think we could fill a stadium."

Riot's words were true. A few short years ago, any one of the three bands could fill a stadium by itself. No longer.

"So what do you say?" Riot asked.

Jetta was immensely relieved when Pizzazz gave the same reply that Jetta herself would. "I'd like some time to think it over and discuss it with my group."

Moments later, the Misfits found themselves sitting in a smaller conference room down the hall, at a round table. Their discussion did not last too long. Despite the fact that Roxy still "smelled a rat" and that Jetta grudgingly agreed with her old foe, Pizzazz and Stormer were able to convince them. They knew that they could really use the publicity. If their next album was to be a success, they had to keep their name on people's tongues. And no one liked the idea of the other two bands going forward with something like this without the Misfits. Years ago, they might have tried to put on their own rival concert on the same night – but they had no manager to assist with that and there was no use fighting for a crumb from a very small pie anyway. Realistically, their options were limited. And all the Misfits relished the chance to play to a large audience once more.

Not that it carried much weight with the Misfits, but Stormer phoned Starlight House to get Kimber or Aja's perspective on her band's meeting with the Stingers yesterday. Aja answered the phone and was sincerely excited about the benefit show.

"You don't….like suspect that the Stingers are up to anything, do you?" Stormer asked.

"No, not at all. They've stopped doing stuff like that. Besides, I've got a pretty good bullshit detector and I could tell if something were fishy," Aja replied.

The Misfits re-entered the conference room and took their seats. Pizzazz told the Stingers that they accepted the offer. Jetta looked over at Rapture and could have sworn that she saw a telling look on Rapture's face. It was as if the corner of one lip wanted to turn upwards into a smile or a sneer.

Riot promised to send over a contract within the next few days to cement the details. He once again said that he looked forward to the publicity this would foster. The two bands bid each other adieu, and the Misfits left the room.

Minx turned to her bandmates and smiled. "Oh, the Misfits will get publicity alright. Just not the kind they were hoping for." The Stingers laughed.

-----------------------------

For the next several weeks, preparations were under way for the benefit concert. Two charities were selected: one for runaway youths and another that had to do with helping people afford to buy houses. It was a dream come true for me; I'd always wanted the Misfits to do more benefits. It was only during the last couple of years, when I'd had some influence in the band, that I'd been able to convince us to do them more regularly.

During those weeks, I tried to forget about my future beyond the benefit. I still couldn't risk traveling because of the screening that so many cities were doing. I didn't want to think about how I'd ever resolve this, and I got chills every time I thought of the words "blood test". One day I made a half-hearted attempt to learn which cities were requiring the test, as Pizzazz had advised me after her meeting with that guy, but I could not find the information. So I buried thoughts of the future and instead lost myself in the thing I do best, the thing that I believe I was put on earth to do: making music.

There is nothing that makes me happier than a good song, and it is even better when I'm the one who helped the song come into being. I pour my pent-up emotion and love into the music and try to produce songs that get your adrenaline pumping and heart racing.

The combination of the instrumentation that I helped put together plus Pizzazz's voice is so powerful, so moving that suddenly I can forget or forgive all of Pizzazz's foibles: her arrogance, her rudeness, her tantrums. (I won't go on here; the list could fill half a page).

I was happy to spend the bulk of my days on music. Free time was spent with the other Misfits (or sometimes with Craig though things were still awkward between me and him). We Misfits rehearsed diligently for the benefit – granted, we'd just finished a tour but we wanted to be in top form for the show, especially given the presence of our rivals. We may be quasi-friendly rivals now, but make no mistake – the competition was still there and we vowed that we would not be outdone. We wanted the biggest applause at the end of the night; we wanted fans and the media to say that our set was the strongest. It would not be easy because both of the other bands were musically brilliant too. And we were at a disadvantage from the start because, much as I hate to admit it, the other two bands were more popular than the Misfits and pretty much always had been. But hey, we don't shy away from a challenge.

The publicity for the benefit was actually going very well. Riot had been right: the combined power of our three bands was enough to get media attention. We had TV appearances scheduled and interviews in both magazines and on the radio. For a moment or two it felt just like the hustle and bustle of the old days but at a more manageable pace.

Ticket sales were steady but not outstanding. A few weeks after they went on sale, they were still not sold out, unfortunately. The prices were kept low so people could afford them, though I think many people still couldn't. The tickets – to this show with three supergroups -- sold for about one-third of the price that a show with only one of the three bands alone could've demanded only a few years ago. At least this reminded me of how lucky I was. It was hard to hear the others complaining about possibly having to move to a smaller mansion (still only a remote possibility according to Pizzazz) when I sometimes heard reports of record homelessness or multiple families crowded into a tiny rented house. But I don't criticize my bandmates for their attitudes and, besides, I'm not perfect either.

Back to the publicity for the show, one of the events arranged was an appearance on Lin-Z's show of all three of the bands. The show would be kicked off with an interview of Pizzazz, Riot, and Jem – all at the same time. Then each of the three groups would perform one song.

The order in which we'd perform had been chosen by lot – just as it would on the night of the benefit concert itself. We drew the slot to play last, which I saw as a good omen. (We all dearly hoped that we'd draw the last slot again on the night of the actual concert. At the very least, we sure didn't want to have to go first.) But the performance on the show would likely take a back seat to the interview. Jem, Riot, and Pizzazz sharing the same interview was, at least in the past, a guaranteed recipe for catastrophe. It seemed odd that she wanted them on the show all at once; it wasn't Lin-Z's style to court controversy. This was not the Harriet Horne show after all. I wondered if this was a desperate attempt on Lin-Z's part to get ratings up. But then again, the three bands were acting together with some degree of unity; we had all agreed to come together for a cause.

We drove to the studio on the evening of the show. I hadn't been able to see Pizzazz much during the day so I wasn't sure what type of mood she was in. I did know that she'd spent the afternoon with this guy who she periodically gets together with, and I hoped that maybe some good old sex would have placed her in a sunny mood.

"Now, Pizzazz, you know this isn't going to be easy with both Jem and Riot there," Jetta began, once we had arrived in our dressing room. Her voice had caring in it though she did sound a smidgen like a school teacher talking to a youngster.

Pizzazz turned from the mirror, her mascara brush in hand. "Thanks, Jetta, are you my damn therapist now?" she muttered, sounding decidedly displeased.

"Well, she does have a point," I piped up, trying to sound gentle but firm. "It's going to be hard to keep your cool around both of them at once."

"Yeah," Roxy said. She came off sounding more antagonistic than, I think, she'd intended. "Do ya think you can handle it? I mean, you're gonna – "

Pizzazz marched up to Roxy and socked her in the stomach. She hit hard, from what I could tell. I was shocked. Over the years, Pizzazz has yelled at us, she's called us names, but she never actually struck one of us. (She did come close. Once, in the throes of her Riot-obsession, she shoved me really hard. And I was told she did something to Jetta once Jetta's deception had been found out. But those incidents were a long time ago and, judging from the look on Roxy's face, not as severe as what just happened).

I had only a second to react, but I knew that Roxy's instinct would be to hit back and we absolutely could not have a fist fight in the dressing room with the two rival bands on the premises and our biggest TV appearance in ages set to start in thirty minutes! So I placed myself between Roxy and Pizzazz, putting my hands on Roxy's shoulders.

Fortunately, Jetta's intuition was just as strong. She went up to Pizzazz and similarly restrained her.

Roxy was outraged. She began to yell words to the effect of, "You want a piece of me?! Come an' get it, and I'll beat your rich girl ass to a pulp!" A string of obscenities followed. It was not pleasant. I tried to calm her down by saying some reassuring words but she wasn't listening. I struggled to keep holding her back physically.

All of this happened in the span of a second or two, but I looked over at Pizzazz and Jetta. I thought that Pizzazz may have regretted her action briefly, but Roxy's fighting words were spurring her on and I saw Jetta struggling to restrain her. Pizzazz returned Roxy's verbal assault.

"C'mon Pizzazz, stop it," Jetta said. "You got your knickers all in a twist over nothing."

Meanwhile, Roxy succeeded in throwing me off of her and she advanced towards Pizzazz. I scrambled to get in front of Pizzazz to keep Roxy from hitting the singer, but our timing was off and Roxy ended up hitting me on the jaw. The blow was meant for Pizzazz but I was a split second too early and Roxy hadn't seen me in time to stop.

Man that girl is strong. Tears automatically appeared at the corners of my eyes as the intense pain set in.

"Oh shit! Stormer, I didn't mean to hit you!" Roxy exclaimed. She rushed right up to me and took my arm.

"See what you did!" Pizzazz yelled at Roxy.

"Pizzazz, that's enough," Jetta said softly. "Let's worry about Stormer now and forget the stupid fight."

Jetta rushed up to me too. "Is it broken? Can you talk?" she asked.

I touched the side of my face. "I don't know," I managed to say.

"She's bleeding!" Pizzazz screeched

"Did—did you lose a tooth?" Roxy asked. Her voice was full of regret and concern.

"I don't know," I said again.

"'ere," Jetta said, leading me towards the sofa. I was glad to sit because my legs were shaky.

I opened my mouth and Roxy looked in.

Roxy declared that she saw no missing teeth, just as Jetta ordered Pizzazz to find some ice. Surprisingly to me, Pizzazz wordlessly followed Jetta's command. I don't remember all of what happened next except that at some point an ice pack was held against my face. Roxy held onto my arm and apologized more than once.

At one point, Pizzazz asked if I could still go on and play the song. Honestly, she sounded more worried about our appearance on the show than the fact that I was hurt. Earlier she'd sounded more horrified at the sight of blood than at the fact that I was bleeding.

But then I do remember her sitting on my other side at one point and actually stroking my arm, so maybe I'm wrong there.

"Okay," I began, once the pain began to turn to numbness and I slowly realized that I would be fine for the performance. "I want you two to make up – NOW!" I commanded.

Pizzazz and Roxy looked at me and then looked at each other. In that instant I realized that they were going to do it and, despite the pain I silently celebrated this ability of mine.

"I apologize," Pizzazz said, looking at Roxy for a second and then looking down. She took a breath and then said, "I'm just so f---ing sick of everyone questioning my sanity, acting like I can't be trusted to keep my head together!" she added, sounding pouty but a bit more like her old self.

"So then ya go out and do something that makes you look totally mental," Roxy said, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Roxy," I said, in a tone clearly meant as a warning.

"Okay. I accept your apology," she said, though her intonation used during that sentence was one of exasperation. "Just don't forget that we're not your damn punching bags. I ain't no one's punching bag!" The last sentence was said with particular vehemence.

"Okay, okay," Pizzazz said. "I said I was sorry! I won't do it again

"Good enough," I said, observing. "Now hug each other."

"You're really pushin' it, Stormer," Roxy muttered as she arose from the sofa. She looked pretty disgusted.

Okay, so no hug would take place. At least I got Pizzazz to apologize; this was not a frequent occurrence.

Later, as Pizzazz was being taken to the stage for the interview and Roxy was in the bathroom, Jetta sat next to me. She put an arm around me and said, "You are a real star. The way you handled that whole thing was class!"

I sighed. "Just as long as I can get them on speaking terms and get us to be able to perform our song well."

She nodded. "So how are you doing then?"

"Okay," I said. "The ice has helped a lot. I think I might be all swollen tomorrow though." I paused. "I just hope Pizzazz can get through this interview now."

"I suspect that she has calmed down. Maybe that took the fight out of her."

"Maybe. Or did it just whet her appetite?"

We exchanged a look, wondering. She and I then turned on the monitor in our room to watch the interview. I wasn't sure where Roxy went but I guessed that she didn't want to look at Pizzazz right now. I held my breath as the introduction was played and Lin-Z then kicked off her show. I noticed how my nervousness over Pizzazz's behavior served to make me forget about the physical pain for several minutes. She was such a firecracker – who knew what we'd see? Would she make a fool of herself, and therefore us, in front of our rivals and the American public? Would our career disappear further into the mists?

But the interview went off without a hitch! Pizzazz was positively mellow. Jetta and I looked at each other at one point and exchanged surprised smiles. Pizzazz sat on the interview couch with Riot and Jem and they chatted as if the three had been old friends.

Lin-Z asked them questions about the benefit concert and the organizations that would be recipients of the funding. She then asked each of the three what their bands had been up to and when fans could expect a new album and tour. (In our case, of course, we had just finished up the tour to promote our latest album so Pizzazz talked about the fact that we were writing new material. Lin-Z asked how the tour had gone and Pizzazz spoke for a bit about it). Then Lin-Z asked about the rivalry among the groups. Jem just said how happy the bands all were to come together and support some great causes, as Pizzazz nodded along to her words. That moment was positively surreal but there it was!

The other surprise was the brevity of the interview. I seemed to recall these types of interviews going on for much longer, but this one couldn't have lasted more than five minutes. I wondered if the station needed to air more commercials? Whatever the case, after the interview ended, we were escorted to the stage to prepare for our song. Roxy was already there, her guitar strapped on. She still didn't look pleased but she appeared "centered" enough to perform.

We Misfits had considered debuting one of the new songs, but they just weren't at that stage of readiness that we wanted to publicly unveil them yet. So we agreed to perform an old favorite – "Listen Up". I must say that we performed extremely well, but of course I'm biased. The applause from the in-studio audience was hearty.

-----------------------------

I had a dream that night. I dreamt that Craig somehow found out that I was gay. We were standing and talking inside our parents' house, and outside it was raining harder than I could ever remember, with loud thunder. Because of the rain, Craig and I could barely hear each other.

But I remember the disgusted look on his face. I remember him being angry and trying to not lash out at me. I was crying, and I told him something like, "I'm still the same Mary you've always known; I'm still your sister."

I had to strain to hear him since the thunderstorm was still drowning out our conversation. But then he said something that I couldn't forget, "You're not my sister anymore."

I woke up in a panic. It was one of those dreams that felt so real when it was happening. It took me a few moments to calm down and reassure myself that it hadn't actually happened. _Yet_, I said to myself.

-----------------------------

"You have a phone call, Miss Phillips," the butler at the Gabor mansion announced the next morning. Stormer was sitting at the kitchen table wearing her pajamas, drinking coffee and paging through the newspaper. She hoped to see a story regarding the previous day's Lin-Z appearance. She also was waiting for the other Misfits to get up so she could begin making buttermilk pancakes for them. Her mouth still felt sore and was slightly swollen, so she knew she would need to stick to softer foods, and avoid the spicy ones.

"Hello?" Stormer asked, picking up the receiver.

"Hi Mary, it's me," Craig answered. "What time do you want me to pick you up?"

"What time do I….?" Stormer repeated quizzically. She was surprised by the phone call and still disturbed from the dream she'd had.

"Our breakfast? Remember, we planned to go out for ---"

"Breakfast? Yeah, we planned for tomorrow, right?"

"No, Mary, we planned to do it today," Craig insisted, with a smile. "I'm sure of it."

Stormer shook her head. "It can't be. I wrote down Monday."

"I'm positive we agreed to today." Craig paused. "Well, are you free today? Can you do it?"

"Yeah, I can," Stormer said, realizing that she had nothing pressing that morning anyway. The Misfits wouldn't begin work on the new songs until late in the afternoon. "Just give me some time to take my shower and get ready."

Not long afterwards, Stormer let the butler know her whereabouts and she set off with Craig. As she got settled in the car, she asked him about his progress in finding a gig.

Craig sighed, "You were right that the music scene's not much better here. I sank to a new low yesterday."

"What happened?" Stormer asked.

"I auditioned for a band that plays weddings and that sort of thing. No original material and no aspirations of becoming a supergroup like yours. They just play weddings and bar mitzvahs and such, wearing tuxes and performing other bands' songs." He took a breath. "I guess I should be thankful they even want a real drummer, since a lot of groups use drum machines instead. And I hate to admit it, but I'd be glad if I get the gig. I need the money."

"Now, Craig, about the whole money thing, remember what I ---"

"I'm not going to take any more money from you! It's bad enough that you're paying my insurance premiums, and the utilities on the house, and I'm driving your car, but I'm not going to ask you for anything more. Regardless of whether this gig works out or not, I think I'm going to have to get a day job. Any job, even if it's cleaning restrooms or something. It's embarrassing going to dinner with my girlfriend and having her foot the bill! I can't even buy her a nice pair of earrings or anything like that."

"Oh, come off it," Stormer said. "Despite all the charity gigs the Holograms played, Aja must be plenty well off. Besides, she doesn't seem to be the fancy-jewelry type to me anyway. She's pretty down to earth and practical."

"I know. I love that about her," he said dreamily. "We installed a new dishwasher at Starlight House yesterday, and she didn't even need my help."

A bemused Stormer smiled at how love-struck Craig sounded over his girlfriend's mechanical ability. "So hey….how are things going with her then?" she asked, a playful tone in her voice. Thoughts of Craig wanting to buy Aja jewels seemed to portend well.

Craig couldn't hide the smile. "Well, other than the fact that I can't treat her to dinner at Magnum's, everything's great. I've been spending more time with the rest of her band too. Aja told me that I've gained their full approval."

"Well, I'm not surprised. They already like you -- you nearly joined the group once before."

"Yeah, and I'm glad that nothing's changed there in terms of us getting along. So, what about you, sis? Any luck in the romance department lately?"

Stormer's heart sank as she wondered if every encounter with her brother would bring these uncomfortable moments. She still did not know whether Aja had spilled the beans; Craig's question might have been an innocent one.

"No, situation normal," Stormer said with a forced laugh.

The car came to a red light, and Craig turned his head to get a look at his sister.

"Hey….what's wrong with your face?" he asked, noticing the swelling along her jaw for the first time.

"Oh, this?" Stormer asked, feeling a bit as if she went from the frying pan to the fire. "It's a long story."

"Really? What happened?"

Stormer decided to concede this one. She couldn't dodge the subject, and Craig might as well know what had happened. He already hates my bandmates so how much worse can it get?' she wondered. Stormer recounted the events of the previous evening, telling Craig the entire story.

"That Pizzazz….what an overgrown brat," he muttered. "Having temper tantrums at her age. And Roxy! Does she think with her fists??"

"I told you, Craig, it was a mistake that she hit me. And once they realized I was hurt, they were great. They rallied, they got me an ice pack."

"Oh big deal. Mary, you don't belong with them. Why don't you leave--- "

Stormer cut him off, this time her voice harsh. "Craig. We're not going to discuss this anymore! I'm a Misfit and I'm staying in the band. End of subject!"

She nearly yelled that last sentence. A stunned Craig clammed up, and their breakfast conversation was stilted, with too many secrets and silences between them.

-----------------------------

Pizzazz paced the floor of her spacious room like a caged animal. What would Stormer do?' she wondered. She then chided herself. Why do I care what that sensitive wimp would do?' She answered herself, forced to admit, Because she usually makes sense.' Her thoughts continued to swirl out of control, which was normal for her.

Pizzazz had been impressed with Roxy's performance on the Lin-Z show yesterday evening. She played guitar with her typical aggression, one of the traits which had attracted Pizzazz in the first place. But their ride home had been awkward and nearly silent.

On some level, Pizzazz wanted to resolve what had happened between her and Roxy in the dressing room. But she had no idea how. Years ago Pizzazz would have just let the incident pass until both had forgotten about it. Years of that Stormer and her mushiness have taken their toll inside my head,' Pizzazz grumbled.

Just then, Pizzazz turned her head at the subtle sound of paper being slipped under her bedroom door.

"What is it, James?" she asked the butler, looking at the white paper that James had placed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Gabor – I didn't realize that you were up," James stammered from the other side of the door. "We have some visitors. There are two men from the Morality Office here."

Pizzazz's blood froze. Once again, she had no idea what to say or do. It was not a position in which she felt comfortable. She held back from smashing a vase or guitar, marveling at her willpower.

"I told them that I thought that no one was awake yet," James continued. "They said that they will wait here until you are ready. They are in the sitting room on the west wing. We're serving them coffee and breakfast amenities."

Pizzazz heard James speak and tried to absorb the words. She dimly recalled saying that she would get ready to receive them. She also heard James say that "Miss Phillips" was at a restaurant having breakfast with her brother, but that the presence of the entire band had been requested.

Pizzazz rushed through her hair and make-up. Moments later she met up with Jetta and Roxy in the hallway, and they walked down the stairs together.

"What do they want?" Roxy whispered.

"I don't know, but it's probably good that Stormer's out with her brother," Jetta whispered back.

Pizzazz looked at them and heard their shaky voices. They were as scared as she was. She wished fervently, once more, for the days when her father's lawyers could have handled anything. The realization that she was on a tightrope with no net – even though she had realized it several times before – still felt like ice water trickling down her neck.

The three Misfits entered the room, and the two uniformed men stood to greet them.

"I'm Officer McMillan and this is Officer Weirzbowski," one of the men began. They wore starched, brown uniforms and their shoes shined brightly.

Pizzazz introduced her bandmates, using their real names. She was expecting the officers to immediately ask for the whereabouts of Stormer, but they did not.

"We came here today," McMillan began as he and his coworker sat down once more, "because we wanted to talk to Miss Pelligrini."

Pizzazz nearly gasped, and she whirled her head around to face Roxy.

"Me?" Roxy asked.

"We were reviewing your birth certificate," he continued, tonelessly. "Your mother's name is listed as Jane Pelligrini. There is no father listed." He said that last sentence slowly, as if it were a most grievous failing. He then paused before asking, "Do you know who your father is or was?"

Roxy, who was a bit of a movie buff, fleetingly wondered whether some bizarre twist in her life was about to be revealed. Were the officers here to tell her that her father was someone famous?

Her prior dealings with the Morality Office indicated that she should act serious and answer honestly. "No," Roxy replied truthfully.

"So your parents were not married?" he asked. He now addressed her as if he were speaking to some sort of lower form of life.

Pizzazz's insides were mixed with rage and fear. The way the officers looked at Roxy. The way they disrupted her own day. They way they threw their weight around.

"No," Roxy said. She coolly maintained eye contact with McMillan.

"I see," McMillan said as Weirzbowski wrote something down. "We are compiling a database of all illegitimates. We need to track everyone who was born out of wedlock."

Pizzazz again looked at Roxy out of the corner of her eye and knew that it was as much of a herculean effort for her guitarist, as it was for her, to keep from tackling the officers. In the old days we would've pulverized them in no time,' Pizzazz thought.

But neither woman wanted to spend the night in jail.

"What do you mean by track us?" Roxy asked.

"We'll ask the questions here, young lady," he said irritably. McMillan then answered Roxy's question. "Like I said, we are compiling a database of illegitimates. We want to see if illegitimates also produce more out of wedlock children. Now, you yourself are not married, are you?"

"No."

"Do you have any children?"

"No."

"Your mother is dead, correct?"

"Yes."

"Do you know the whereabouts of your brother Tony?"

"No."

Pizzazz listened to Roxy's monosyllabic answers and wished she could somehow send her some more strength and restraint. As it was, Roxy's grace under fire so far was admirable.

Just then, Stormer walked into the room.

"Hi everyone," she smiled. Her face nearly froze when she saw the uniformed officers, but she outwardly recovered her composure quickly. "Is everything okay?" she asked.

"We were just finishing up here," McMillan said, as he and Weirzbowski rose from their seats. "Thank you for your time, ladies. If we have any further questions, we will return."

Pizzazz rang for James, and the butler escorted the officers to the main door.

"Um….what did I just miss?" Stormer asked after a few moments of silence.

Roxy stood up, smashed her fist into the wall, and stormed out of the room.

-----------------------------

Stormer stood in the sitting room, looking at a dumbfounded Pizzazz and Jetta. The room was eerily silent following Roxy's explosion. Stormer thought that Roxy's fingers must be hurting from having smashed the hard wall.

"So, what did I miss?" Stormer repeated. "What were those Morality Police – or whatever they're called – doing here?"

"They weren't here to see you," Jetta said, her arms folded over her chest.

"They asked Roxy a bunch of questions," Pizzazz sighed. "About her family. Seems her birth certificate doesn't contain the name of her father."

"Yeah, so we learned the shocking secret that her parents weren't married," Jetta said sarcastically. "Like we care. They said they were going to put her name down in some database they're keeping to track all the 'illegitimates'."

Stormer's mind reeled. "Wait, wait. A database of….people who's parents weren't married? Can we back up and you guys tell me everything that happened?"

Pizzazz recounted the brief conversation between the officers and Roxy. She then shrugged. "I never knew she had a brother. Or that her parents weren't married." Roxy had never talked about it. Biological family wasn't too important to Pizzazz, Roxy, or Jetta.

Listening to Pizzazz's description of the encounter, Jetta wondered out loud, "But why were they after her? Surely she's not the only…. 'illegitimate' in the bleedin' country? Why were they poking around her birth certificate and why pay us a personal visit?"

"Yeah," Pizzazz said. "Is someone keeping tabs on us?"

The three women exchanged glances, and each saw her own fear mirrored on the others' faces.

"These are such scary times," Stormer murmured. "Sometimes I want to cry. It's like there's so much going on that we can't control, that no one can help us with."

"Yeah! How long before they go after me and start keeping a file of all the guys I've gone out with!" Pizzazz exclaimed.

Stormer and Jetta looked at each other, unsure of how flippant Pizzazz was trying to be.

"That would be a long file, Pizzazz," Jetta said.

"Yeah, you'd crash their computers!" Stormer smiled. She reminded herself to keep her sense of humor when it came to Pizzazz, even though the concerns Stormer had voiced were grave ones. As usual, Pizzazz was focused on herself.

But then again, maybe not.

"Very funny," Pizzazz remarked. She then got to her feet. "Come on, girls. Let's go talk to Roxy."

-----------------------------

In the privacy of her spacious room, Roxy paced the floor. Her room was in its usual state of disarray, with guitars and clothing strewn about the floor. Cosmetics and demo tapes were spread on top of a cluttered dresser, which was overlooked by a dusty mirror. The dresser also contained a picture of herself, Pizzazz, and Stormer accepting the Best New Group award. Another framed photograph on her nightstand contained a picture of the Misfits after their performance at a stadium, each of the four members with a triumphant arm raised in the air.

Though the thought was not top of her mind at the time, she realized that she had a sense of how Stormer must have felt. Humiliation in front of the rest of the band. Feeling exposed. Like I'm supposed to be f---ing ashamed of somethin' that ain't my doing!' she exclaimed to herself.

She heard the knock at her door and debated ignoring it. But the debate didn't last long. She opened the door.

Pizzazz, Stormer, and Jetta entered.

"So the truth's out!" Roxy exclaimed, watching them enter. "My parents weren't married!"

"Big stupid deal!" Jetta shrugged. "Mine are married but they're total arseholes. What's it matter?"

"Well apparently it matters to the stupid Morality Office," Pizzazz grumbled.

Roxy slumped down on the bed. Pizzazz sat next to her, as Stormer and Jetta seated themselves on nearby chairs. Stormer picked up a jacket that had been left on the chair and deposited it onto the floor, knowing that Roxy wouldn't notice or care.

"Well, look on the bright side," Stormer began, facing Roxy. "Maybe our jail cells will be next to each other's. That is, if they put illegitimates and queers in the same wing."

"We'll bring you guys food and stuff," Pizzazz said, with a nod in Jetta's direction. "If we're not arrested for something too."

"This is serious shit though," Roxy said. "My name going into some stupid database. So what the hell are they doing? Are they paying a personal visit to everyone whose parents weren't married?"

"We were wondering that ourselves," Jetta said. "It doesn't seem likely. What made them pick us?"

"And how long before they pay us another visit and decide to make us all take blood tests again?" Pizzazz grumbled, looking at Stormer.

"Maybe they just want to intimidate us," Stormer said. She had to admit that she was clueless as to what the band should do, and looking at her bandmates' faces, she guessed that she was not alone.

"My head hurts thinking about all this political crap," Pizzazz said. "There's nothing we can do about it." Her bandmates felt the same way. After all, they were not a political band.

Stormer looked at Roxy and said, "You know, I never knew you had a brother."

Roxy shrugged. She didn't relish the idea of talking about her past, but she too was glad for the change of subject. "Half-brother. I didn't know him that well. He was a lot older and he left….home when I was a kid."

"Who cares about blood relatives?" Jetta asked. "I never had one who was worth their salt."

"Me neither," Pizzazz added. "'Cept for Daddy and all the money he gave me, but he did that so he wouldn't have to feel guilty about ignoring me all the time."

Stormer looked around the room and then asked, quietly, "So….were all of you abused or neglected by your families then?"

"Stormer!" Jetta exclaimed, out of surprise more than anything.

"What is this, group therapy?" Pizzazz asked, dismissively.

Stormer shrugged. "I just want to know. You never talk about your backgrounds – none of you. But I think of you like my sisters and I want to know more about your families. What you went through."

Stormer knew full well that she was treading on thin, thin ice. This was a taboo subject. She had learned that early on, when a few weeks after meeting Pizzazz and Roxy she'd asked an innocent question about their families. Her new bandmates had yelled at her to "shut the hell up" and both had looked one step away from physically assaulting her just for asking the question. Family was a subject that no one broached, though Stormer had gleaned a few things here and there, oftentimes from what was not said as much as from what was. She sat on the chair that day, nervously looking from bandmate to bandmate, half expecting another derisive remark. Instead, the room was heavy with silence.

At last, Jetta spoke. "I dunno if I'd say mine were abusive. More like they ignored me. I'd be twelve years old and stay out all night, and they wouldn't say a thing. They never hugged me or did anything mushy like that. And I….I had a creepy uncle who stayed with us occasionally."

Jetta clammed up, realizing that she had no desire to go into more detail, especially on that last piece. She wondered if she should regret that she spoke. Jetta looked around at the others and hoped that one would open her mouth. Oddly enough, it was Roxy who came to her rescue.

"Well, okay, if you want to know," Roxy began, surprising herself. "Yeah, my mom was a jerk. She hit me. And most of her asshole boyfriends over the years hit me too. That's why I split when I was 13. But the gang I joined was cool. They took good care of me and showed me how to fight."

Once she was finished, Roxy looked at Pizzazz. She hoped the singer would talk. She had wondered over the years about her background too.

"Well, I," Pizzazz began, awkwardly, "I hate this kind of stuff. But since you guys did it….Well, my mom left when I was eight. Before that, she was a jerk too." Pizzazz took a breath, and for a second, the others thought they might hear more. "Okay, Stormer?? You happy now?"

Pizzazz wasn't able to say anything more. She tried to eviscerate the memories, wishing away the image of a cold mother who decided early on that her daughter was now too old to be kissed. The image was followed by memories of a little girl who would slink into her mother's bathroom, rifle through the wastebasket, and retrieve tissues with her mother's lipstick blots on them, pressing them against her cold cheek. Pizzazz felt ill both at the memories and at how much she had shared.

Stormer wasn't surprised at what Pizzazz had said. To her, it kind of helped fit everything into place. In all these years, she knew that no mention had ever been made of a mother, and thus she had figured that either Pizzazz's mother had either died or left the family. The more she thought about it, the more it all made sense to Stormer when she recalled Pizzazz's reactions during those times that any member of the band had walked out

Roxy then asked, "What about you, Stormer?"

Stormer shook her head. "I didn't go through anything like you all did. My parents were okay. They weren't perfect but they were usually nice." Stormer bore no ill will towards her deceased parents. Her father at times was harsh and distant, and her mother often seemed very sad and enfolded inside her own sorrows. But they did love her and Craig, and they sometimes showed it. "They died in a car accident a few years before I joined the band," she added, though she had mentioned that to the others before. "Um….thank you all for talking about this," she concluded. "I appreciate it."

The four women sat looking at each other. Cutting through the shroud of silence had been uncomfortable and scary, but also somehow freeing.

"Okay, suddenly I'm really hungry," Roxy said.

"You? Hungry? I can't imagine," Jetta remarked, rolling her eyes with mock exasperation.

"Well, c'mon," Pizzazz said, standing up. "Let's go out and get something to eat!"

Stormer readily agreed, even though she'd just eaten.

"And how 'bout a movie afterwards?" Roxy added.

As they filed out of the room, Pizzazz lingered for a moment with Roxy. She touched her hand to the guitarist's back. "You know, I never thought of you as my punching bag." She wanted to find a better way to say what she was trying to verbalize about yesterday, but this would have to do.

"Yeah, I know. But try to keep from going mental on us again," Roxy said. She then added, "You did good on the interview."

"I know," Pizzazz said. She smiled. "I'm the best, I'm the best! And you were kick ass during the song."

"As always," Roxy added.

Pizzazz took a breath. She was going to demand that the group see an action film and avoid any emotional chick flicks. She'd had about all the sappiness she could take for one day now.

-----------------------------

I mustered my courage and did something I never thought I would do. I went to a lesbian bar.

Not that I'm a big drinker or anything like that, but I wasn't sure where else to go to meet other gay women. It was something I wanted to do, something I'd been curious about for so long.

I was terrified preparing for it, but the evening turned out to be uneventful. I dug out an old gay and lesbian community newspaper that I'd covertly picked up a few years ago, and looked at the nightlife section. I called up a few bars, but the first two I tried were closed. The third one had moved and they were very hesitant to give me their address. It was in a rough part of town.

I pulled my hair back and wore no make-up. I dressed in jeans and an old sweater, hoping I would not be recognized.

When I finally found the place (and it was not easy, as it was sandwiched between two other establishments and you could barely see the address on the door), I walked in. It was almost like walking into this haunted house we'd visited a couple years ago while on tour. Once you got inside, it was pitch black. I waited for my eyes to adjust while a bouncer type frisked me to make sure that I wasn't carrying any weapons. She asked for my ID and shined a flashlight on it. Then I was allowed to enter.

I coughed at the cigarette smoke. The bar was small, consisting of not much more than a rectangular bar area, with a few pool tables off to the side. I ordered a drink and tried to covertly observe the other women. Some of them were masculine-looking. I resigned myself to the fact that I'd always be attracted to long-haired, make-up wearing feminine types in skirts or dresses. And there were a few women who fit that profile – I saw two of them in a corner making out. I watched some of the women play pool and overheard snippets of conversation around the bar. But I didn't approach anyone. One woman offered to buy me a drink, but I was a little flustered and just mumbled, "No thanks." She looked mortified and skulked away. I considered going after her and apologizing, but I was glued to my seat the entire time.

When I returned home after an hour or so, I couldn't say that I felt either great or miserable. My only aim had been to muster up the courage to go there and exist with other lesbians for a little while. I had achieved that, though not much else. It was a start, I thought. I knew at that point that I couldn't hide from or ignore who and what I was. I didn't know how to get acquainted with that side of me yet, but it seemed that perhaps this was a baby-step in the right direction.

"What did you do last night?" Jetta asked me the following morning.

I told her, trying to sound as casual as I could.

"You did?" she asked. "Wow, good for you. It must have taken a lot of courage to do that. Did you meet anyone?"

I noticed a few things about Jetta. First, she sounded sincerely interested in this and happy for me. Like she recognized how big of a step this was for me. One should never underestimate how well Jetta understands people and their motivations. The second thing I noticed was that she didn't seem at all worried about the image of the band. I felt that if Pizzazz had been told where I went, her first questions would have been around ensuring that no one had recognized me because she didn't want people to know that the Misfits had a lesbian member.

Of course I realized that I had better tell Jetta that I was semi-disguised. She would report right back to Pizzazz. She always does.

And maybe I'm wrong about Pizzazz's reaction. She still has her – _ahem_ – issues, but she has been getting better about things. She did an admirable job handling the discussion we had a week ago regarding our families; I had to give her credit for that.

"No. I just sat there and had a drink," I answered. I then added, "And I went in disguise. Sort of. I had my hair pulled back and no make-up on. I wore an old pair of jeans and a plain sweater – I doubt anyone would've recognized me."

"Well, who cares if they do? Unless…well, is it illegal in LA?"

"Not that I know of. I checked around a little while ago and the city's not making anyone take the blood test to get in." I answered truthfully, though I also realized as I spoke that just because LA wasn't requiring new entrants to take a blood test didn't mean that they weren't cracking down on gay people. After all, it seemed that many of the bars had been forced to go underground. And it seemed that the Morality Office had free reign, so if they could detain gay people in other cities, couldn't they do it here too? I felt the familiar sense of dread about a topic that I didn't want to deal with. I really had no idea what the legal status of gay people was here and now. I just wished I didn't have to worry about it.

"Well, as long as you stay safe, luv. I hope you meet someone someday."

-----------------------------

TO BE CONTINUED

Coming soon…the final chapter. Please keep the reviews coming and let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

**Farewell to Life the Way We Knew It**

By Stormkeeper

**CHAPTER SIX**

**Author's Note:**

Here is the final chapter. I hope you will enjoy it!

-

At long last, the day was here. Finally, after weeks and weeks of planning and preparation, it was time for the benefit concert!

The publicity continued to spike leading up to it. We did two more joint interviews with the other bands and both went off without a hitch. Pizzazz, Jem, and Riot even made the cover of one news magazine. We had great radio and print coverage. One TV station was going to broadcast the show live, which meant terrific exposure. And the fees they were paying would help us ensure that we broke even on the costs of the event and that both charities would receive handsome checks.

A few days before the concert, we had a meeting with the other two groups. All was on track. Jerrica Benton told us that 90 percentof the tickets were sold. It was a bit disappointing that it wasn't sold out but Jerrica also had on hand some articles with the current economic forecast and unemployment statistics. Let's just say that given these forces beyond our control, we were lucky the tickets had sold as well as they did.

Also at that meeting, we needed to determine the starting order – which band would play first, second, and third. Pizzazz, Jem, and Riot all drew numbers out of a hat as we sat down and watched nervously. No one wanted the dreaded first spot.

As it turned out, the Stingers drew to play first, the Misfits second, and Jem and the Holograms third. The four of us Misfits looked at each other. Well, we were relieved that we wouldn't have to open, but it was a disappointment that we didn't get the coveted last spot. (I tell you, Jem and her group always have the best luck!)

I looked at the Stingers and, oddly none of them looked as upset as I would be if I had drawn to play first. They looked fine. Good for them, I thought still thrilled that the Misfits wouldn't have to be the warm-up act.

We Misfits had been rehearsing with more attack than ever. No one needed to be coaxed into the long hours we spent in the studio. We were united in our pursuit of a perfect set. Some of the songs, like "Talkin' It All" and "Makin' Mischief", we had been playing for so long, but we injected new life into them, varying parts of the instrumentation and sometimes the lyrics. Everyone's playing was in such top form and Pizzazz's voice as awe-inspiring as ever, that we were actually pumped at the end of our sets. We'd often hit the town for an evening out afterwards (a less-wild evening than our earlier days but we still had fun).

We ordered new clothes for the concert. The designer came to the mansion one day to take our measurements. The outfits were all variations on a theme, so they were similar but varied. (We have several such coordinated outfits). They were basic black with a few bold colors thrown in. We wanted to stand out, and we figured that Jem and the Holograms would wear their trademark pastels and the Stingers their black and yellow colors. (We made sure that none of ours were black and yellow). We met with the set designers to ensure that the back drop on stage would meet our specifications too, and not clash with our outfits.

On the day of the concert, we splurged on a limo. I looked out as we approached the Gen Corp Arena and gasped at the sight of our band's name in lights. It flashed on the electronic billboard along with the other groups. As we were driven in, we could already see cars crowding the parking lot even though there were several hours to go before the show. We glimpsed fans wearing Misfits T-shirts, jackets, and caps. One shirt I caught a glimpse of was a frayed, black T from our first album's era. Vendors were already standing off to the sides, selling posters and such.

"This is awesome!" Roxy exclaimed.

"I'm so excited!" I added. "A concert in front of so many people again!"

"With more media coverage than we've gotten in years," Pizzazz said, sounding as content as the cat who'd just dined on her mouse. "This place will be full of reporters."

"This is such a coup," Jetta added. "I can hardly wait!"

I looked at their faces. Sometimes their nervousness and excitement can get translated into aggression, which can turn on us. (Who am I kidding? Too much aggression has been our downfall countless times). But they seemed well today, with a happy sort of excitement.

We were escorted to the large backstage area. I knew the layout well as we had played this venue more than once, albeit years ago. The backstage area was filled with stage hands and various other workers scrambling to make sure everything went off without a hitch. Several reporters with press passes walked around, and we saw a camera crew arrive on the scene too. I was surprised to see such attention this early. Wow – the publicity machines at Stinger Sound and Starlight Music really came through!

We were walking towards our dressing room when I spotted Craig. He had arrived with the Holograms. We ran towards each other and hugged.

"Today's the big day! Sis, you'll be great," he said.

"Awww, thanks," I said, hugging him so tightly that he was squeezed. Things had been so awkward between us lately but today was going to be a glorious day no matter what. As usual, Craig released the hug before I did.

"So, do you have your seat assignment?" I asked.

"Yeah, front row, right next to Anthony Julian and near several Starlight girls. Being the boyfriend of a Hologram and brother of a Misfit has its advantages," he said, smiling. I later heard that other prime seats had gone to more friends of Jem and the Holograms, such as Danse, Video, Regine, and Astral. Of course Rio had a seat too and a half dozen or so of Raya's family were there as well. I noticed how the Misfits were a bit more like the Stingers in one regard: neither band had too many friends outside of the group. The Stingers had closed ranks as we had. (Clash was still on the outs with Pizzazz since her last two missteps. We hadn't seen her for ages).

Craig then added, "Did you know that one of the magazines wants to interview me? Because of the ties I have to both bands."

"Really? It's not 'Cool Trash', is it?" I asked, unsure if the tabloid was even still in business.

"Nah. Aja said this one was okay and they wouldn't be dishing up dirt."

"Wow, Craig, you're a star too!"

He smiled, and then his tone changed. "Hey, Mary, did your group get a letter from the Department of Communications?" he asked, sounding very serious all of a sudden.

"No," I said.

"Aja was telling me this morning that Jem and the Holograms received a letter, via certified mail, just yesterday. It told them that at tonight's show they can't perform certain songs."

"Really? Which ones?"

"They're not allowed to perform 'Let Me Take You to the Mardi Gras'. The letter just said something about Mardi Gras – the event, not the song – being 'corrupt and licentious'. So they're not allowed to 'advocate' it."

I made a face, and Craig continued. "They also can't do 'Come on in the Water's Fine' because the lyrics are too 'provocative', and they have to leave out one line in….which one was it? The one that has the line 'Is he making love to a fantasy'".

"Oh. 'Who Is He Kissing?'" I supplied the song title. My head was spinning. "That just seems so weird! To stop them from playing their own songs. They seemed pretty innocent to me. But no…I'm certain we haven't received anything telling us what we can perform." And I was positive that we hadn't. In Eric's absence, Jetta and Pizzazz read through that type of correspondence – I sometimes took a look as well.

"I'm glad you haven't. Aja was pretty steamed about it. Not that I blame her."

"I don't either! I would be too."

Craig and I chatted for a bit longer, and then Aja came up to us. We wished each other good luck, and I then caught up with the rest of the Misfits in our dressing room. I shook away disquieting thoughts about bands being required to change or leave out some songs. Tonight was going to be a good one and I was determined to enjoy it.

I smiled at the sight of a champagne bucket that had been placed inside the room.

"Who's this from?" I asked.

Pizzazz answered, with that dopey smile on her face that immediately enabled me to guess who sent the champagne. "It's from Riot. The card says Best wishes. Here's to the union of our three bands!'"

"Awww," Roxy said, dripping with sarcasm. I nervously looked at her and then Pizzazz, worried they might go at it again over Riot. Fortunately, both seemed in too good of a mood.

"Let's wait until after the show to enjoy this, shall we?" Jetta suggested.

"After we conquer the audience," Pizzazz said.

We started to put on our costumes and make-up. Then my ears perked up as we heard a knock on the door. I wasn't expecting it and gasped.

Jetta, closest to the door, answered it. I looked over my shoulder and saw that it was a delivery of some sort.

"Look at this!" Jetta exclaimed. "Bouquets of flowers for us. But…there are only three. One each for me, Roxy, and Stormer."

We received the flowers. The bouquets were huge and quite beautiful. I adore flowers and always have. I looked at all the alluring varieties included in the bouquet: blue iris, pink stargazer lilies, bright chrysanthemums, and stems of lavender. Roxy tore the plastic off of hers and made short work of wadding it up.

"Who're they from?" Roxy asked. "And how come there's not one for Pizzazz?"

I read the note card that was attached to my bouquet. "Knock 'em dead tonight! Pizzazz."

"Pizzazz!" Roxy exclaimed. She then tossed the wadded up plastic at the singer. "You softie!" she said, feigning horror. But her smile revealed how she really felt.

I underestimate Pizzazz. I always do.

"Pizzazz, this is so lovely!" Jetta exclaimed. Her eyes were wide and delighted.

"Thank you," I added. My face was glowing with happiness.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, which I translate as 'you're welcome.'

Later on, when Pizzazz was in the bathroom, Jetta pulled Roxy and I aside and said, "We oughtta get something for Pizzazz too," she said. "Maybe a nice piece of jewelry. We can get it tomorrow."

I agreed whole-heartedly. Pizzazz had done so much for us. I mean, for goodness' sakes, we lived rent-free at her mansion! Granted it didn't cost her much financially, but still. I remained awed that she had come up with the idea to send us flowers.

When we had less than an hour to go before the Stingers would take the stage, all three bands were brought out into the central backstage area for photo ops. Before leaving the comfort of our dressing room, the four of us did one last check of our hair, make-up, and clothing.

"Simply stunning," Pizzazz pronounced our appearances. "We're the best looking. We play the best. We are the best band in the world!"

Walking together, we set out to meet the paparazzi. We Misfits lined up next to Jem and the Holograms who were lined up next to the Stingers. It had been a long time since I'd seen so many photographers and video cameras all in one place. Video Montgomery was there as well, filming away. My heart thumped just a bit at all the pictures and all the fuss. Reporters fired off questions, and we answered them. Photographers asked us to shift positions a bit so that all twelve of us could fit in one picture. Then they moved us around to do individual group shots.

I had forgotten how long this fuss all takes too. Photo after photo, question after question. I tried to not blink at all the flashes from the cameras. At one point I tried to count the number of video cameras. Apparently at least five or six stations would be running some coverage of the show! Only one was carrying the entire concert though.

I noticed Craig standing off to the side. He gave me a thumbs-up. I waved back.

At one point, the reporter from the leading rock magazine requested a shot of just the lead singers. So we reshuffled the deck, the rest of us stepping aside to make room for Pizzazz, Jem, and Riot. The media then focused their attention on the three singers, snapping tons more pictures. Pizzazz looked radiant. She was in her element, soaking up the attention. The sight of it and her happiness brought a smile to my face, though somewhere in the back of my head I wondered whether she could ever learn to be happy without all that stuff.

"Oh!" I exclaimed. With the attention off me, I noticed something amiss.

"What's wrong?" Roxy whispered.

"I forgot my flower," I said, touching my hair. "I can't believe I didn't notice it earlier!"

"If it's gonna bug you so much, go back to the room and get it."

Jetta added, "This is a good time to slip away, since the reporters are preoccupied with our leaders now."

I heeded their advice and turned away from the media hordes, and towards the dressing room. I took a few steps when I noticed Kimber Benton heading in the same direction.

"Did you forget something too?" I asked, as she fell into step next to me.

"Um, yeah….I think I just got my period!" she whispered.

"The timing for that always sucks," I said, touching her arm. We shared a giggle.

We had taken more steps towards the dressing rooms when I saw them out of the corner of my eye. I noticed their uniforms first, and my blood froze.

Though we weren't near the Morality Officers, we could hear them loud and clear. The reporters ceased taking pictures. The backstage got very quiet as everyone's attention turned towards the officers.

"We're from the Morality Office," one of the men said. "We have concerns about rock music and its influence on our nation's youth. The music industry is rife with drug use and deviant sexuality. Therefore, we are going to conduct some quick blood tests on all the members of the bands that are playing here. This will take just a few minutes." He paused and continued, "If everything checks out okay, you will be permitted to proceed with the show."

"That will be fine," Riot said. His voice was loud and strong. "None of us are drug users, and none of the bands have anything to hide. We will be glad to comply. My group will go first."

I didn't listen to anything more. I ran to the dressing room. I didn't notice that Kimber was right there on my heels until we were inside the room and I locked the door.

I sank down to the floor. I collapsed. I couldn't think. I could barely breathe.

"Stormer, what is it?" Kimber asked, kneeling next to me. "What's wrong? Is it the officers? The test?"

Mutely, I nodded. I had no idea what to say or do.

"The test," I managed. "I'm gonna fail it. Kimber, I'm gonna fail the test!"

"But how can you?" she asked. "You're not a drug user. You have nothing to -." She stopped and then seemed to realize it. "Oh," she said, with finality.

I looked down at my hands. On top of everything else, now I was going to lose Kimber's friendship.

"I'm sorry, Kimber. I lied to you that day we had lunch. I'm so sorry." My voice shook so hard that I'm not sure whether I was even coherent. "I'm dead. I'm dead, and my band's career is over."

"No, it's not!" Kimber said, leaping to her feet. "I have a plan! Stormer, stay in this room and don't come out. If I can get to Jem in time, you're gonna be fine. Trust me! But stay here."

I sat there as she left the room. I had no idea what she had planned. I was too shocked and terrified to do anything else. I tried to block out thoughts of what would happen next, as my heart beat louder than a drum.

-

Pizzazz made her way back to the rest of the Misfits. The Stingers stood several feet away, surrounded by the officers as they readied themselves for their blood tests. The officers had set up a make-shift computer station to scan the test results. The media stood by, cameras and notebooks at hand. A few of the stations seemed to have their video cameras rolling.

"Our ass is toast," Roxy whispered.

Pizzazz tried to take stock of the situation. Between the dozens of reporters and the officers, it didn't seem like there was any way they could make a graceful and un-noticed exit.

Jetta's face was pale. "What do we do?" she whispered. "And where is she?"

"I don't know," Pizzazz whispered, in answer to both questions. She was watching everything go up in flames: the huge concert, the band's comeback. When the media got their hands on Stormer's test results….it would be over. Doom was imminent. She stood by, disbelieving the miserable turn of events and unable to dream up a way out.

Pizzazz's insides slowly boiled. She watched the Stingers being tested and marveled at the luck that they, and Jem and the Holograms, had. The Misfits instead had Roxy, who was a former illiterate and who was illegitimate, being tracked by the Morality Office. There was Jetta, former charlatan whose background wasn't much more prestigious than Roxy's. And Stormer, who carried around a secret that was soon going to disgrace the entire band.

'And you're the worst of them all,' taunted a voice inside Pizzazz's head, one that sounded eerily like her mother's. Pizzazz gritted her teeth. She could not explode now; throwing a tantrum would make the already intolerable situation even worse. Every fiber in her body wanted to lash out and she trembled, fighting for control.

Roxy inched closer and gently placed a hand on Pizzazz's shoulder. Jetta looked at Pizzazz, her quiet gray eyes touching Pizzazz's green eyes. Pizzazz subtly took a few deep breaths.

The Misfits noticed, off to the side, Kimber dashing up to Jem and whispering frantically in the singer's ear. Jem nodded, and Kimber dashed off again. Seconds after Kimber was gone, Stormer somehow appeared walking quickly towards the bands.

Pizzazz couldn't explain what she saw. Stormer was there, standing off to the side now, and she looked composed. Pizzazz exchanged looks with Roxy and Jetta. They all knew somehow that this was not Stormer. But she looked exactly like her.

Jem walked up to the Misfits. She touched Pizzazz's arm. "Trust me on this," she whispered. "We're gonna help you. Just go along with it and trust me. Volunteer your group to go next," she ordered. Jem was glad for Synergy's assistance.

Roxy bit her tongue to keep from crying out, 'You're gonna listen to her?' But she had no alternatives to suggest. And she had to admit that Jem had bailed them out before.

Pizzazz looked at Jetta, and Jetta nodded. Whatever Jem had in mind to help them out, it was better than doing nothing.

The Stingers were finished with their blood tests. One of the officers loudly proclaimed that all was well for this group, and "there is no drug use or deviant sexuality."

The reporters all made note of this.

"We'll go next," Pizzazz said. She was proud of the way her voice came out steady and strong, belying what she felt inside.

Roxy looked over at "Stormer" who stood next to her. She blinked a few times. This woman looked identical to their Stormer. But to Roxy it was clear as day that this was not Stormer. She couldn't say how she knew it, but somehow there was no way that this woman was the band's keyboardist. The mystery woman smiled back at Roxy.

The Misfits, including this silent "Stormer", lined up to have their fingers pricked. One by one, the blood samples were taken. Each sample was scanned by the computer.

"All clear," the officer proclaimed a few minutes later after the samples had been scanned.

Jetta, a band aid now wrapped around her finger, looked over at the Stingers. They were standing several feet away and she couldn't see them too clearly. But she saw one thing fairly well: the looks of disappointment and surprise on their faces.

"Ready for the last band," the officer continued.

"There are supposed to be five of them," another officer said. "I only count four."

"Oh! Kimber must be back in the dressing room," Jem said. "I'll go find her."

The three Misfits stood by. They watched "Stormer" subtly move off to the side, and then slip out of sight. A minute or two later, Jem and Kimber returned.

"So what the hell just happened?" Roxy whispered, once the Holograms lined up for their tests and the focus was off of the Misfits.

"I have no clue," Pizzazz admitted.

The three Misfits weren't sure which emotion they felt more strongly: relief or confusion. They stood by silently as Jem and the Holograms gave their samples and all was pronounced well. The Morality Officers packed up their equipment and turned to leave.

"The show is on in twenty minutes," the stage managed called.

The Stingers returned to their dressing room for final preparations, as they were to be first up.

The media were dispersing but several smaller interviews with band members were occurring. Before they could head back to the dressing room, a few reporters grabbed Pizzazz, Roxy, and Jetta. As much as they wanted to find Stormer, they stayed to answer the reporters' questions.

-

I sat huddled on the floor of the dressing room. I wished I could listen to what was happening, but the room was too far from the area where the commotion was taking place. So I sat there and tried to remember to breathe. I tried to shut my brain off from catastrophic thoughts of the future, but my evil thoughts ran all over the place, taunting me. I was too terrified to cry though.

Then I heard a knock at the door and I nearly screamed.

"It's me. Kimber!"

I unlocked the door and let her in. As soon as she was inside, I locked the door again. And then I sat back on the floor, my back leaning against the door because I simply was too weak to stand. I knew my legs weren't going to support me.

"It's okay," she said, sitting down next to me. "It's alright. The police are gone."

"They're gone?" I asked. "How….what….?"

"Well, Stormer, I can't tell you all the details. You have to trust me and go with me on this. All I can say is that we fooled them into thinking you took the test. All the Misfits took the test and everyone passed. Your group's okay, and the stupid officers left."

I shook my head. "But I still don't get it. How could you have fooled them? Did you put on a blue wig and say you were me?" I asked, making a feeble attempt at a joke.

Kimber put a hand on my shoulder. "Stormer, I think the world of you, but like I said. I can't tell you, and you just gotta trust me on this one." Her voice was as firm as concrete. "Don't ask me about this again. Okay?"

I nodded because I kind of understood. I always had the idea that Jem and the Holograms had something. Something that gave them an edge, something that couldn't be explained. We had been their rivals for so long, and I had always sensed that I wasn't the only one with a secret. Whatever the case, I had to accept Kimber's insistence that I not ask again. She'd just saved my neck. "Okay," I said.

"Now Stormer, if you ever need me again, like if something like this happens, call me. We might be able to help again. I mean we'll sure try the best we can."

"Really?" I asked. "So you mean…you're not mad at me?"

"Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?" she asked. There was that innocence in her voice. She honestly had no idea why I thought she should be mad.

"Because I lied to you! That day we had tacos at my house. I was lying through my teeth because….because I was so ashamed." Now I was fighting back tears. I managed to keep from crying, but instead of tears spilling out of me, it was words that flowed. I told Kimber everything. I gave her the entire story of what had happened in Chicago.

Kimber pulled me into a hug. She was sincerely horrified by what I had undergone.

"Aww, Stormer, I'm sorry about what you went through," she said. "What an awful, awful experience! But that kinda thing doesn't matter to me."

She pulled away from the hug and looked me in the eye before giving a small laugh. "This is probably going to sound so corny, but…." she let her voice trail off before turning serious again. "I love you for who you are – gay or straight. Either way, it doesn't matter just so long as you are you. And damn those stupid officers for what they put you through!"

I don't know if it was the hug or her words, but I finally went over the edge and released all the pent up emotion. I cried and cried. Thinking of everything that had happened today, what had happened in Chicago, what I would surely face in the future. Thinking of the fact that my very existence was considered immoral and criminal. Kimber sat there, holding me and comforting me as I turned her shoulder wet with weeping.

This was what I had longed for – someone to hug me as I cried and relived that nightmare. The Misfits hadn't done that. I love them but …things just won't be perfect among us, ever.

But I knew what we Misfits had was good enough. After the mess in Chicago, they took care of me in their own way. They rescued me, they drew the bath for me, they got me out of there. It wasn't the same kind of caring that Kimber was doing now but it was their way of giving me support, and I was grateful.

Dimly I was aware that the concert had started. We could hear the opening strains of "The Stingers' Theme". Kimber got up and found some tissues and I blew my nose.

Then we heard a knock on the door.

"It's Craig. Can I come in?"

I decided to let him in. Kimber, perhaps sensing that we should have some time alone, gave me a quick hug and said, "I'd better get back to the Holograms." She added quietly, "And I never did get that tampon that I need!"

Craig entered the room and led me over to the sofa. He put an arm around me as I continued to blow my nose. I then dabbed at my eyes.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked softly. My heart nearly broke at the caring I heard in his voice.

I took a breath. "Can you…can you tell me what you saw out there?" My voice still shook. "What you saw happen just now, with the blood tests?"

"I saw something very strange," he said. "I saw someone who looked just like my sister – but who wasn't. She took the test and then she disappeared." He paused and added, "You've been in here the whole time, haven't you?"

I nodded. Craig started to say something, but I cut him off and said, "Kimber did it somehow. But she made me promise not to ask how. I had to leave it at that."

Craig nodded. "The Holograms….they're hiding something. Seems that everyone is hiding something on me!" he exclaimed.

"But….you know about me, don't you? Aja told you, didn't she?" I had no idea how to bring up the subject, but I was starting to realize that I couldn't hide it from him any longer. And besides, I was darn tired of hiding.

"Told me what?" he asked, sounding puzzled.

"You know," I answered. Upon seeing that he maybe didn't know, I had to make myself say the words. "That I'm gay," I finally said.

He raised his eyebrows. The surprise on his face looked genuine. "Is that it?" he asked. He tilted his head back. "That's why you couldn't take the test. They have a way to detect that, don't they?"

"Yes," I said.

He was quiet for an excruciating moment or two. "I guess that explains a lot of things," he said, finally. "I guess I suspected. I always wondered why you never told me about your love life."

I forced a laugh. "There's been no love life to tell you about. Honestly!"

"But…why did you never tell me? Why would you tell Aja instead of telling me?"

"Oh, I never told Aja. But Kimber did. So I figured she might've mentioned it to you."

"No, she never did." He took a breath. "Okay, why tell Kimber instead of your own brother?"

"Oh, Craig, I wanted to tell you. I just had no idea how. I was so afraid that you'd….you know, get upset. Reject me."

"Reject my own baby sister? I don't think so!" He pulled me into a hug. It was my second one that day and it felt really good. "I love you."

I returned the hug wholeheartedly. "I'm so glad you know, now. I was so tired of there being this in between us."

"Me too. Thank you for telling me." He pulled out of the hug but kept an arm around me. "Now, Mary," he began, a very serious tone in his voice, "I know that these next few months are going to be hard for you. I know how much you always feared the Misfits kicking you out. But I really think this is going to turn out to be a good thing in the end now that you're out of the band. You can work on your solo career or maybe team up with Kimber and the rest of her group again. You can really spread your wings and – "

"Wait," I began, with a laugh, "what do you mean now that I'm out of the Misfits?'"

He leaned back. "Well, surely they're going to kick you out now that they know you're a lesbian!"

I laughed with relief. "Craig, they've known for months!"

"They have?" he asked. He sounded more shocked now than earlier.

"Yes! And they've been great. I've been wanting to tell you how they came to my rescue in Chicago. And how great they've been since then, too. I've gotta give you the whole story some day." But after just recounting it to Kimber, I wasn't eager to go through it again.

He shook his head. "I can't imagine this." He then added, "This has been a day of surprises."

"It's true. So I don't think I have to worry about losing my job!"

He opened his mouth to say more, but the door to the room opened. Pizzazz, Roxy, and Jetta came in.

"We wouldda been here earlier, but we got cornered by some reporters," Roxy said. She noticed Craig and smiled. She thinks he's handsome. (Well, he is).

Craig stood up. "I guess I oughtta leave you guys alone."

"You don't haveta," Roxy said.

"No, it's okay. Good luck tonight!" he wished for us. Then he reached down towards me for another hug.

"I love you," he said quietly.

"I love you too," I said.

Craig left the room. Pizzazz looked at the dirty tissues littering the floor. My eyes were still red and puffy from crying.

"How ya holding up?" she asked.

"Oh, just wonderful!" I said, sarcastically.

"So then…you've been in here the whole time, haven't you?" Jetta asked. "That was not you who took the test, was it?"

I told them pretty much what I had told Craig. They knew that Jem and her band had something to do with it too. But none of us could explain it, and I told them how resolute Kimber had been in not revealing what they did.

"Guess we shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth," Pizzazz said.

"Don't look like we got a choice anyway," Roxy added. "They ain't gonna tell whatever it is they did."

I think what we'd just been through – dodging that major bullet – had kind of tired us all out, at least mentally. So we spent the rest of the time during the Stingers' set just chatting about nothing. We gossiped about the other bands, talking about what they wore, how their hair was done, and such. We didn't demolish the dressing room though, which was good. We did talk a little about "the old days", with Roxy re-telling the story of the time we tossed the hotel's manager in the pool. (Well, technically it was Pizzazz, Roxy, and Jetta who threw him in. But I stood there and watched, and laughed).

Roxy found my flower (I'd forgotten all about it actually) and affixed it to my hair. Jetta fussed over my make-up for a bit, helping me reapply it. Soon the tell-tale redness around the eyes was concealed. I appreciated their wordless expressions of caring.

The stage manager knocked on the door, giving us the ten minute warning. We were ready to perform. We walked along the backstage area to the wings leading to the stage entrance.

I wasn't nervous. I actually felt more calm and centered than I had been in a long time. I think the reason was obvious. Finally that wall of silence between Craig and me had been torn down, and he loved me none the less. Same with Kimber. I had people in my life who loved me the way I was. I berated myself for ever doubting it. Besides, all I had to do was think about everything my bandmates had done too.

When we took the stage, I gasped with shock. I'd nearly forgotten what it felt like to look out from the stage and see so many people! Thousands and thousands of fans clamoring for us, chanting the name of the band. They held Misfits signs and wore Misfits T-shirts. When the lights went up and they heard the opening strains of "I Am A Giant", the audience just went nuts. They practically screamed through the entire song.

We played the show of our lives. I mean it. Each song was performed with strength and passion, and we had the roaring audience eating from the palms of our hands. We fed off their energy and sent it back to them. Pizzazz strutted on that stage, patrolling it as if it were her realm. Roxy did the guitar-goddess thing with aplomb, and Jetta played a wicked sax. The four of us were so in synch with each other. Each song screamed through the night, performed masterfully.

Me, I think I was smiling like an idiot the entire time because I was so elated. I didn't think you could be this happy, but here I was.

We even debuted two of the new songs, and they were received with excitement.

When we performed "The Queen of Rock N Roll", I kept glancing at Pizzazz. She was so in her element. She looked, acted, and probably felt – down to every fiber in her body – that she was the queen of rock n roll. She is so rarely satisfied with anything, but she looked full and content here.

Our last encore was "It Takes A Lot." We belted that tune out too, and Pizzazz sang the last line which was either a demand or a warning to the world: "We will survive!" Afterwards, the four of us stood on center stage, our arms raised. We took our bows together. Then we left, waving to the audience.

"We'll have to thank the Stingers for warming them up for us," Jetta smiled, on the way back to the dressing room. She wiped the sweat off her face with her sleeve.

"Not that we needed it," Roxy added. We gleefully laughed.

"C'mon, girls," Pizzazz said. "Time to celebrate!"

Once we reached the room, it was straight over to the champagne. Pizzazz popped the cork and poured some into each of our glasses.

"To an amazing concert. And an amazing career," she toasted. We clinked the glasses together and each drank a sip.

"To rock n roll!" Jetta added, another toast.

"To us," Roxy said, for our third toast.

By Roxy standards, her words were borderline sappy. But no one was smirking at it and we all clinked our glasses together enthusiastically and drank. So maybe I was inspired by that, or maybe I was so full of love that night. I just raised my glass and said, "Um…I love you guys."

There was a moment when the others seemed a bit shocked by those words. But Pizzazz said, and this had to have been hard for her, "Ditto." I was impressed she did it. We were all on a bit of a natural high from the concert; maybe that explains things. Roxy and Jetta each said something along the lines of "Here, here." We then clinked the glasses together again and drank.

Her glass empty, Pizzazz tossed it over her shoulder. She reached for the rest of us and pulled us into a group hug.

**- THE END**

Comments and feedback are always welcome.

**Acknowledgments and Author's Note**

I would like to thank my wonderful beta testers, Severine, Denisia, and Ann. You all provided invaluable input and I could not have done it without you. Thank you very much.

The sequel, "Survival of the Misfits", should be out soon. Watch for it! And feel free to email me if you'd like any input on the sequel. Anything you want to see or don't want to see? Let me know. When I wrote my X-men trilogy, I often incorporated ideas from readers. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the next book.


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